I’d wanted to photograph Lukas for a while—beautiful, sharp, the kind of face you want to capture in every kind of light. When we finally met, we hit it off instantly. No awkward warm-up, no hesitation. Just a mutual understanding that something good was about to happen. The sun was already sinking, and I wasn’t about to waste what little light was left.
We started in the sunroom, rushing through portraits before the golden light faded. I had him lie down on the ground, got on top, framed that face—those eyes looking straight up, piercing. Close, closer, wanting to see everything. Then my hands got involved. Holding his face, feeling his jaw, adjusting his chin. I was trying to stay focused on shooting, but some distractions are too good to resist.
Things got rougher from there. I grabbed his neck, made him arch, had him on all fours, fingers wrapped in his hair, pulling. He looked good like that—giving in, leaning into it. My hands on his waist, dragging him back into place. We played with it, felt out the tension, and I loved every photo that came out of it.
Upstairs, my bed. The mood shifted—low light, heat rising, sweat glistening. More POV shots, the kind that make you feel like you were right there, watching. We moved, tried different things, back downstairs, then up again. A slap left my handprint on his ass, deep red, fading too fast. I took flash photos of him on his knees, head tilted back, mouth slightly open—those are still my favorites. The chemistry? Insane.
I wasn’t ready to let him go, so we didn’t stop. Pizza arrived, we ate, we talked, we let the night stretch long. And just when I thought we were done, he came back the next day. This time, we went even further. A new idea—his lips, his body, dripping in something milky, slick. I watched it trace every line, every curve. Shot after shot, capturing it as it spilled, smeared, dripped. The results? F*cking stunning.
There’s too much to show in one post, but this is just the start. There’s more coming, better, filthier, hotter. Stay ready.
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