An Assignment

Last night before I went to bed I gave my knight an assignment. Write a fantasy.. something I haven't heard before. He partially followed directions-- He wrote out the fantasy. But, it's not anything I didn't know about him. My sweet knight claims that what I asked of him is impossible because I already know all his fantasies. Either way.. the fiction below was written by my Knight.


He snapped a picture of them as they kissed.

This was his fantasy, but of course it was hers, as well.  He stepped back, and moved down the bed, taking picture after picture of hands caressing, fingers teasing, bodies pressed together.

The kiss ended, and one mouth, tongue trailing, traveled from lips to chin to neck, with an occasional pause to nibble.  He took a picture of teeth on her chin, another of a fluttering kiss on her Adam's apple, and one more of teasing tongue flickering, tauntingly, over her right nipple.  He looked up, to catch her eye, but both were closed as she focused on things besides him, so he went back to his camera.

The tongue continued to travel, leaving a slight shimmering trail between her breasts, down her stomach, and twirling lazily a dozen laps around her navel.  For a moment, blonde hair fell, and blocked his view, but before he could reach for it and clear the image, before he could even comment on it, a free hand whisked it out of the viewfinder, just before the tongue trailed down through her pubic hair and disappeared, out of sight, playing, teasing, seeking her clitoris.  He took a picture of that, too, and of her back arching completely off the bed when that tongue found it.

He stepped close for a close-up, and the owner of the tongue obliged, spreading her pussy lips wide to show tongue teasing her clit.  Hands wrapped firmly around thighs to keep the bucking body from squirming totally out of reach of the questing, probing, flicking tongue.  And he stepped back for a few full-body shots, showing the blonde hair spilling across her thighs, and the red flush that started in her cheeks and spread nearly to her nipples, and one close-up shot of a fist, twisted in sheet, clenched tightly, almost ripping the fabric.

He took a series of pictures of her head thrown back, moaning softly, muscles tight in her neck, as her body bucked and arched and quivered through an orgasm, and then a stronger, more powerful one that had her entire body except her head completely off the bed.

And one more photo, of her eyes barely open, of a smile upon her lips, and a tongue that just peeked out from between those lips, as the blonde hair trailed up her body and nestled in the crook of her arm.  He smiled at the look on her face; she smiled back, and reached for his zipper.

The last picture he took before the camera was completely forgotten was of two tongues, touching playfully, teasing each other, as they darted and played hide-and-seek around the  purple tip of his erection.