Its Name Was Henry update

Rosalie felt her cunt throb as she looked at Mary Jane’s chest. She could tell that the girl would hold onto the bloom of youth until most women would be going gray. Those breasts were perfectly formed, two tall hills covered in flawless white skin like virgin snow. Her nipples were bright pink and stiff, teasing Rosalie’s eyes with every look at them.

“Yes, beautiful. Parfait,” Rosalie said, her French accent thick and languid, every word a smoky seduction. “And now the rest, mademoiselle.”

“Please, one more?” Mary Jane cooed, her passionate tone a parody of just how sultry Rosalie sounded, but she was still playing along.

Rosalie took another photograph of her, capturing the thrust of her breasts at their proudest, and then Mary Jane moved to show off her nakedness in its entirety. Pulling her skirt down. Exposing her small belly and then the creamy white flesh over the swell of her pubic mound.

When her cinnamon thatch came into view, Rosalie felt her own pussy, engorged against the air that was the only thing touching it. For while Mary Jane was slowly stripping down, the woman who photographed her was already reduced to nothing more than a beret atop her blonde head.

Absent the camera that Rosalie held, an onlooker might be confused as to which was the model and which the photographer. Rosalie had a winsomely lithe body, filled out a bit with muscle tone. At her groin, a sparse growth of pubic hair was like a golden adornment between her slenderly sculpted legs. The lips of her womanhood were plain to see among the wheat-like shafts of gold, pink and clean and enticing, a ripe fruit protected by just enough fuzz to be interesting.

The combination of disrobing and her viewer already being naked had Mary Jane blushing despite herself. The way Rosalie looked at her! Those brown eyes seemed to hold both her breasts and her sex—MJ felt her gaze equally on both. As open-minded as she was, Mary Jane actually felt a little shy as she stepped out of her skirt and stood before the Frenchwoman stark naked.

“I hope I meet your expectations,” she said nervously, doing a slow turn to fully display herself to Rosalie.

Trepidatious as she might feel, she still wouldn’t back down. She was damn proud of her looks and it was time to share the wealth with her many admirers—be immortalized as only a photographer of Rosalie’s caliber could do.

“No one could possibly have an expectation you don’t surpass, ma Cherie,” Rosalie breathed. “And now, I think, some worship shots.”

There was not even a chance that Mary Jane should deny her and so, having told MJ what the next shot would be, Mary Jane was braced for what Rosalie did next. Bending down and nuzzling her face between the redhead’s legs. Burying mouth and nose in her luscious pussy.

Rosalie licked softly up and down MJ’s slit. Mary Jane felt tremors ripple through her tender space and travel like lightning through the rest of her body. The arousal she’d felt before was now dwarfed by the passion she came alive with.

“Ohh yes, baby, eat me!” Mary Jane gasped. “Lick my pussy and make me come for you!”

Rosalie did just that, and as she did, she held her camera out at the end of her arm, taking pictures of herself with her tongue between Mary Jane’s shorn pussy lips.

It was a shame, though, that the photos she took didn’t include Mary Jane’s face. For the look in her eyes as she felt Rosalie’s tongue wash over her most sensitive places was perhaps more sensuous than all the rest of her body put together.

Then Mary Jane’s eyes widened, feeling Rosalie’s tongue easing down between her thighs and touching to the cleft of her ass. Rosalie came around MJ’s body, kissing her smooth, round buttocks and then tonguing exploratively where Mary Jane had never allowed herself to be touched before. MJ felt like she might die when she experienced Rosalie’s tongue reaching into her anus.

And yet, when Rosalie pulled back, Mary Jane felt no relief. Only the profoundest need for the photographer to continue!

“You have a lovely ass, Miss Watson,” Rosalie purred, her Gaelic accent massaging pleasure into an entirely new erogenous zone for Mary Jane. As if a lover had stimulated her clit to the utmost and now worked at her nipples to shock her with the change in sensation. “It is truly your defining feature. The shape, the size… the taste.”

Rosalie resumed, as Mary Jane had fervently wished for, but now she started between Mary Jane’s legs and slowly laved her tongue up between the part of her cheeks, only belatedly approaching her anus.

Yet she didn’t slow down or come away. Her tongue dragged over every last wrinkle of Mary Jane’s sphincter, very clearly sampling whatever taste there was to the opening.

“Mmmm,” Rosalie moaned, actually smacking her lips once in approval. “Like caramel.”

“Thanks,” Mary Jane smirked, finding some well-trod ground in having some body praised. As new as this was to her, how could it end any other way? “So did you get enough?”

Rosalie grinned herself at the double entendre. She knew Mary Jane was not speaking only of the number of shots she’d taken with her camera. “Almost. But right now, I find myself wanting more.”

And the next thing Mary Jane knew, her face was back between her cheeks, almost lost in the rich peach that was MJ’s ass. And from how infrequently her camera flashed, the pictures were clearly an afterthought.

Mary Jane shrugged. She was enjoying this so much, she’d let Rosalie do it for free. But who was she to say no to making her rent on time for the next six months?

She just hoped she wasn’t late for her next appointment. Mary Jane knew she had a lot of ass, but how much more time did that mean Rosalie had to spend on it?