Whoever the photographer was, they were the key to figuring out her identity. She studied the picture. She saw herself masturbating on the couch, her pink labia wrapped around her left pointer and middle finger. Her right hand holding the dildo to her clit. Her cheeks reddened wondering what the photographer had thought. But the photographer must also be something in the picture, right? The couch maybe? The vibrator? She walked over and picked the vibrarator off the floor and rubbed its still slick surface against her hand. She sniffed the scent of her juices.
She dropped the dildo on the couch and turned and framed the two objects in the camera. She hit the photo button. The photo developed. She looked at it eagerly. There was a tall white man with a ten inch cock where the dildo had been. He was covered in tattoos and heavily muscled. He was naked and rock hard. She felt herself flush in the cheeks again as her vagina twitched. Reality shifted.
The man was laying on the couch. She rushed over and wrapped her lips around his cock and inhaled it as deeply as she could. She wasn’t sure who she’d been but this felt right. The man grabbed her hair. He pulled his head off her cock. He looked her in the eyes.
“I need to penetrate you, right now!”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe something leftover from being a sex toy. I can’t help it.” He grabbed her roughly and turned her over, marveling at her ass, seeing the slick and inviting pinkness of her pussy, smelling the heavy scent of her twat. He entered hard and filled her. She felt like she was being split in half. It was amazing. Her body rocked and her breasts heaved. She came again and again, finally feeling him finish inside her. She turned to face him as he pulled out and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him towards the couch and basking in the afterglow.
Finally, he asked her “who were you?”
“I can’t really remember” she answered. “I spent too long as a necklace.”
“Who were you?”
He sighed and spoke...