Thursday, December 19, 2013

Thirsty Thursday

Jase Dean by Gilles Crofta Photography
Love that smile!
*Please do not crop watermark from image*

Welcome to Thirsty Thursday.  My hope is that by the time you've finished reading this post, you need something ice-cold to drink.  *wink* 

Today's story has been inspired by the above model, @TheJaseDean and a few of his fans that I've chatted with on Twitter.  Inspired by means that I've created a story of fiction from real people, real conversations, real-life.  The image above is by Gilles Crofta Photography.  I don't claim any rights to it.  =) 

Oh and check out Jase Dean on his Facebook page for more SIZZLING photos and a whole lot more.  ;)   Jase Dean's Facebook page:

This story is for you @Alli3Bop and @19JO79

It's a long one...and will be picked up at a later time *wink*


Click. Click. Click.

Alex groaned.  How much longer was this going to take?  She couldn’t wait to wrap up the shoot and get back home.  A little time with her B.O.B. was needed, yet again, after a photo shoot.  What was it about these Brit guys that revved her up so badly?

Alex adjusted a light and moved some props around as Anton directed her.  She tried to keep her eyes off of the model, focusing on making a good impression or her new mentor.  She’d been a photographer’s assistant for a couple years now, but the internship with the famous Anton LaRouche was going to be her big break.  She couldn’t afford to fuck it up. 

Laughter caught her attention and she glanced over as Anton joked with the model.  Derrick James.  Alex watched the two as they smiled and Anton captured Derrick’s playful demeanor with his camera.  Anton was handsome, but Derrick, he was sinfully gorgeous.  Dark hair, smooth tanned skin, a few tattoos. Sex on a stick, as they say.  She leaned against the wall and watched the crew interact with Derrick as he flexed his smooth biceps, bulging muscles rippled and glistened. 

Oh that had been the hardest part.  Oiling up Mr. Perfect.  She had to run her hands over every inch of his delectable body.  She took twice as long as normal when her hands ran over his intricate arm tattoo and his rock hard abs, slipping over his nipples and up his thick neck.  Oiling around his broad back, over another tattoo on his left shoulder blade and down to his trim waist; her hands memorizing every muscle, sinew, and bone.  His body heat surging from her fingertips to her throbbing core.

The most torturous part?  His legs.  They were thicker than her head, and she only knew that because she’d had to bend down in front of him and oil every inch of them, her head mere inches from his shaft.  She had to sing a stupid nursery rhyme in her head, trying to rid her mind of the shameful fantasies that starred her putting her mouth on his cock.  Licking and tasting him as his oiled legs flexed and pushed his length to the back of her throat, deliciously gagging her.  And his backside was just as tempting.  She imagined taking a bite out of that fine, firm ass.

Damn.  Focus Alex.  Focus.

Shit.  Anton was calling out to her, and there she was standing in the shadows fantasizing about a model.  She brought over the towel Anton asked for and then stepped back off the set.  She couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her.  She’d been around models all her life and for the past five years, had been on set.  Her dislike for models was immense.  They were usually cocky, self-absorbed, and swore they were God’s gift to ‘normal’ people like her.  They expected her to ‘put out’ simply because they were beautiful.  Sure, beautiful on the outside but shallow and black-hearted on the inside.

But, when she moved from L.A. to the U.K. things were different.  The models were pleasant and professional.  And, this guy, Derrick was even better than the others.  Not only was he sculpted like Donatello himself had laid hands on him, but he was clever, funny as hell, humble and sweet.  He had brought some delectable treats when he showed up this morning, and passed them out to the crew.  Add in that fucking hot British accent and Alex had nearly orgasmed at their introduction.

Simply put, Derrick was perfect.

When he looked at her and smiled, Alex’s stomach did a flip.  No model had ever gotten to her before.  Not any of the Americans, for sure, and although a few other Brits had stirred a spark, Derrick had ignited an inferno.  She had to get off the set before she went all fan girl on him and stripped herself naked, begging him to take her any way he wanted, right there in front of everyone.

Alex closed her eyes and giggled.  Silly girl…or chit…as they say.  He was way out of her league and she’d have to forget she ever met him after today.  Even though she’d be pouring over his orgasmic images during editing, for the next few days.  Not like she could ever forget him, truth be told.  Her body would remember long after she shut out his memory.

Fancy lunch when we're done?

Alex’s eyes snapped open and she turned her head toward the voice.  Derrick.  Her mouth dropped open.  He was standing there, right next to her, clad in a robe.  How the hell did he do that?  She glanced around and noticed the set being packed up.  Her eyes darted back to Derrick’s beautiful, smiling face.

Her brain went to mush, her body liquefied.  She merely nodded.

Holy shit.

To Be Continued...