Framed Desires

"Who's better? Me, or your husband?"

She shot me a seductive glance over her shoulder. "Even ten of him wouldn't compare…"

My name is Blake Cole, and I had been obsessed with figure photography ever since I was in university.

I never thought that this ability of mine, eventually, allowed me to sleep with countless beautiful women, using taking photos as an excuse.

At first, I went to conventions, taking photos to practice. As my skills improved, models began reaching out to me for shoots, and some even offered to waive fees.

That was when I found out that, when taking suggestive photos, some models would sleep with photographers instead of offering monetary payment.

After that, things quickly spiraled, and soon I'd slept with almost every famous model in the country.

That day, my best friend Charles invited me out for dinner, specifically telling me to bring my camera gear with me.

I'd only just sat down at the dinner table when a faint fragrance drifted over. A stunning woman sauntered over behind me, her soft breasts pressing against my arm lightly before she took her seat across me.

The woman in front of me was Amy. Charles' childhood sweetheart and fiancée, and the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life.

She wore a soft yellow dress that outlined her figure perfectly. The neckline was quite low, and as she moved, her fair breasts trembled slightly. Further below was her slender waist, and hips as firm as peaches.

It was hard not to imagine just how captivating she would be beyond that.

When I noticed Charles was looking at me with an amused expression, I immediately looked down and took a small sip of water, realizing that I'd been staring for far too long.

As the dishes were served, Charles ordered a bottle of wine. I tried to wave him off, saying that I had to drive later, but he insisted. "Don't worry, I'll let Amy drive you later."

Since he insisted, I didn't refuse.

"Bro, what do you think of Amy?"

As we chatted and drank, half a bottle of wine had already gone down the chute. Amy stood up to pour me another glass, and that's when I realized that she wasn't wearing a bra underneath her dress, leaving only two pasties protecting any last shred of decency. As she bent down, the neckline of her dress dipped, allowing me a clear sight of her supple breasts underneath.

I kept my composure, only sparing a glance before averting my gaze, chuckling. "She's as pretty as a goddess. You're ridiculously lucky, you son of a gun."

Charles wrapped an arm around Amy's shoulders, laughing boisterously.

"Bro, take a few photos of her, won't you?" He asked, his expression suddenly serious.

"Oh, is that it? I'll contact a studio and get her the best lighting, all the top-tier stuff!" I promised, gulping down another sip of wine.

Charles stopped me as I reached for my phone, a little nervous. "No, no… Just the three of us."

I looked at him curiously. "You want… the private kind of photo shoot?"

Amy blushed softly next to him, but she didn't say a word.

"Oh, you'll know when we get there. I've already rented a villa outside the city. You brought your gear with you, right?" He gave me a meaningful look.

I let him know that all my equipment was in my car, though his expression left me uneasy.

After dinner, Charles arranged a driver for himself but had Amy drive my car with me to the location.

In the car, it was just the two of us. From where I sat, I couldn't help but notice how the seatbelt clung to her frame, her figure standing out through the sheer fabric of her dress, every curve inviting sinful thoughts.

She seemed to notice my gaze, but instead of shying away, she straightened slightly, almost as if encouraging it.

Inwardly, I had the faint feeling that something was amiss, yet I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

The first time I met Amy was in university, when she traveled a long way just to celebrate Charles' birthday. Even now, I still remember how stunned I was by her beauty, and it would be no exaggeration to say that she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

It brought back memories of hearing her and Charles through the wall in our dingy rented apartment, while I lay in my room, taking care of myself.

"We're here, Blake."

Amy's words pulled me back to reality, and I looked around at the three-story villa that we'd arrived at.

I got out of the car, walking over to Charles who had just arrived as well. He didn't seem to be in any rush to enter, pulling me aside to the porch and handing me a cigarette, speaking in a voice so low it seemed more like he was talking to himself, "No matter how delicious the food is, you'd get sick of it after eating it every day. The same goes for women."

Not really quite understanding what he was getting at, I didn't reply, letting him continue.

"Bro… how long have we known each other?" he asked.

"For about a decade, I bet."

"Heh, well… I'll tell you a secret, but don't laugh, alright?" Charles snuffed out his cigarette, as if he'd come to some sort of resolve. "Lately, I haven't been able to feel any interest with Amy anymore, see?

"But once I think about her sleeping with another man, it lights a fire in me real good, if you catch my drift…"

That's when I realized the severity of the situation. Did my best friend have a thing for being cheated on?

"Could you just… not think about it?" I suggested cautiously.

"It's worse than that," he replied, seemingly at his wits' end. "All I can think of now day in and day out is of Amy sleeping with another man, and I haven't even been able to have a good night's rest because of it, much less sleep with her myself…"

"...How can I help you, then?" I asked.

"Do… you want to sleep with Amy?"