Featured in The Black Penguin Smut Exhibition on Ao3

This wasn't the first time Minako Aino had gotten hit on, especially by a photographer.

For years now, Minako had tried and failed and tried and failed again to become an idol. Even after being reborn a few years ago as the Soldier of Justice, Sailor V, and after discovering her destiny as one of the Sailor Senshi, Minako never let go of that dream to be a household name.

But now, she was finally, finally close to that dream; Minako had become a model. It was flattering to see herself plastered on the covers of teen fashion magazines, seeing her face on billboards. She definitely wasn't the household name she aspired to be yet, but she was getting there.

That attention extended beyond the glamor; it meant she had lots of men's eyes on her behind the scenes as well. This was to be expected, of course. A young teenage girl like her, her body in its prime, up and coming in the modeling scene, ditzy and not at all as pompous and condescending as the other models her age...getting flirted with by crew and various other men was a given.

Especially from some of the younger, more hot-blooded photographers, the non-veterans who were also on a come-up of their own.

Many a shoot, Minako had to deflect their flirts, their not-so-subtle gazes and teases.

If Minako was honest, she enjoyed the attention. It flattered her, made her feel more mature. But no matter how many times it happened, she never reciprocated, never took up any of those sly invitations or little provocations.

Until now.

A squeak slipped through her lips when a tongue gently swiped against them. She hesitated, but as the experienced hands on the skin of her back smoothed up and down, she allowed it passage, and could only let out a sigh out of her nostrils at the sensation of how hot it felt against her own.

Her own hands were buried in the photographer's hair, her mouth clasping and unclasping hotly against his, pulling at his head for their kisses to grow deeper, to grow hotter.

This was all happening so quickly, so spontaneously...but in no way did Minako want it to stop.

It was supposed to be a simple poolside shoot. A few quick shots of her in a bikini, luxuriating with a virgin drink. They had rented out a penthouse for it, mostly for the luxurious pool. It was so simple that the agency only sent a single photographer who set up the lighting equipment and adjusted her wardrobe and makeup all by himself.

And to Minako's dismay, that lone photographer was cute.

He couldn't have been out of his early 20s. He had a charming smile, a roguish look in his eye that matched the scruffy quality of his hair. From the introduction on the ground floor, Minako found it hard not to stare.

She scolded herself for these thoughts from the very beginning; her dating track record was a trainwreck as it is. Why make it even worse with the inclusion of a stranger from her personal line of work?

Skip a few hours, and to make matters worse, it was painfully obvious the photographer thought of her in the same way. His flirts were open, his grin cocky. Minako had every right to dismiss him as a sleazy jerk, but God, the dimples every time he smiled behind that camera, every time she blushed in between takes at one of his brazen compliments…

After the shoot, as they sat together on an outdoor sofa under a large overhanging patio umbrella with cold bottles of water in their hands, it only took a few more of those compliments, and a touch on her shoulder here, a slight graze of her cheek there...and now Minako found herself making out with a guy whose name she'd already forgotten, a guy who she only knew to be a photographer with a killer jawline...

They broke apart from their kiss for a second as Minako's curious fingers grasped the bottom hem of his shirt. He complied by raising his arms, and once the top was on the ground, Minako could swear her pupils turned into hearts.

...and a set of killer washboard abs.

"Now you know how I feel." the photographer said, chuckling.

Her reaction must have been more visible than she realized.

She hid her blush by pulling his mouth onto hers once more. This time, it was her tongue to breach first, pushing itself past the photographer's lips, roughly tousling inside in wet swirls. She breathed hard and hot through her nostrils, pushing herself against him further, hands around his neck.

He had moved his hands down low now. His left softly rubbed sinful circles on the small of her back, his right running along the top of her thigh. Those same hands grew bolder once the kisses grew more passionate. Hot breaths were exchanged between gasping breaks before their lips smashed together, teeth kissing.

Before Minako knew it her legs were already on his lap while that right hand of his greedily gripped the meat of her upper thigh. She could feel the erection he packed under his jeans under her calf.

He broke from her lips, a hand at her neck to keep her steady as his mouth caressed wetly against the smooth ivory of her skin. His saliva left a trail as he progressed downwards, and Minako savored the feeling of how it cooled in the summer air.

The hand that was at her thigh was on her chest now. She softly shuddered at the feeling, closing her eyes as he fondled her through the red of her bikini top. She was proud of her chest, seeing how she grew at least two cup sizes since middle school; having him appreciate them like this made her push it out further.

His lips were planting soft kisses in the soft valley of her cleavage when the hand groping her grabbed the bow on the front of her bikini and pulled. The top came loose, and the photographer didn't bother throwing it aside; his mouth and hands immediately went to work, showing Minako just what kind of thoughts ran through his head during the extensive photoshoot only minutes earlier.

Minako's soft sighs and squeals mingled with the soft sounds of the summery city pop tune fizzing through the speaker of the photographer's portable radio. Her nipples were hard and pebbly, and the way his tongue lavished them, suckling and teeth softly nibbling into the skin of her breasts made her squirm. She dug her fingers into the back of his head, nails digging deeper when his oral appreciation switched breasts.

This wasn't her first time experiencing this sort of foreplay. Her breasts, other than her long, mature legs, had always been her charm point, something that was made apparent by all the boyfriends of her quick and passionate failed relationships.

But of course, the fact that she barely knew this guy made it different. Couple that with the fact that they were obviously in different leagues of experience and the simple pleasure of having a man suck on her tits was escalated to new heights.

Her thighs shifted together. She was getting wetter by the minute.

The photographer knew that too.

Two or so minutes into the worship of her chest, he pressed hand against her flat stomach, giving just the slightest pressure the most miniscule of movements. It excited her as much as it did calm her. Her thighs slowly spread apart, and with that, the photographer slipped his fingers into her bikini bottoms.

Minako bit her lip. He didn't grant her any mercy; those fingers made a beeline towards her clit, and he began to fiddle with it the moment he opened his jaw wider and sucked on her right breast. She tugged at his hair, throwing her head back as his hand stopped entertaining the swollen nub of her clit, and instead began to run up and down the sensitive folds of her vulva.

She was soaked by the time he began to finger her. Two fingers initially, a tight fit that only grew tighter when he pushed in three, and began to saw them in and out, curling in the pink moistness of her arousal.

Minako couldn't help but to arch her back, pushing her chest further into the photographer's face. He stopped the ministrations on her breasts once those fingers inside her began to pump into her in earnest, the moist sounds of schlicking inner flesh growing louder than her mounting groans.

The photographer controlled every single second of the pace, bringing her to the absolute brink of orgasm before he suddenly stopped. Minako was left panting, disoriented and utterly horny before she felt her lithe frame lifted in its entirety. She was limp, feeling a tight grip around her hips, feeling something nestle in between her legs.

She opened her eyes, now seeing that the photographer had slipped off the couch, getting on his knees in front of her, and placing her thighs on her shoulders. Minako leaned back against the cushions of the couch. She could feel his breaths against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, then let out a shudder when he ripped off her bikini bottoms in one grab, and felt those breaths wisp hotly against her exposed pussy.

The blonde pubic hair that framed her sopping arousal was completely drenched. Minako blushed at the thought of the photographer intently staring at it as he did, his hands now on her bare ass. But soon those insecurities were quickly shattered under the weight of one overwhelming sensation:

His hot tongue plunging like aggressive velvet inside her.

No hesitation was found in his mouth's actions. He explored Minako's intimate folds to his fullest efforts, as if parched, thirsty for every single ounce of quim that began flowed from inside her. Again, Minako was pushed to orgasm, and within a few seconds of his brash oral assault, Minako came.

Breath was sucked out of her lungs, and she let out pathetic whimpers as her skinny frame rocked with shudders that tightened her core and deadened every other sense in her body. She gasped and panted, trying to keep up with her demand for oxygen.

The photographer didn't do her any favors as he kept eating her out, savoring how her thighs squirmed and helplessly shifted around his ears.

He brought one of the hands from behind her to her belly. Minako was brought to another intense climax, and the photographer's hand worked magic on her, rubbing circles in the spot right above her crotch. Soon that hand was pressing and toggling her swollen clit, and the orgasm continued into another, a chain quickly forming as Minako lost all sense of reality to the seemingly effortless work of the photographer's tongue and hands co-operating in seamless tandem.

In time, the photographer finally let her have her respite.

He lowered her onto the couch, and Minako sat on it unceremoniously, head tilted upwards, legs spread as she gasped and caught her breath. Her body would reflexively twitch, aftershocks of the intense convulsions she had endured mere minutes earlier.

Music from the portable radio was more muffled now. When Minako opened her eyes, she saw it was because her bikini top had landed on top of it.

She looked at the photographer, who was still on his knees, smiling at her. She smiled back, and felt obliged to thank him for giving her the most intense succession of orgasms she had experienced in ages.

Minako decided to show her gratitude by reaching for his cheeks, and bringing their lips together once more, making him stand. She had to tilt her head up again just for their tongues to mingle. The kisses were more slow this time, but Minako let the photographer take the lead all the same. She smiled against his mouth, biting his bottom lip playfully before he let out a growl, pushing forward forcefully into her teeth as she giggled.

Her hands found the photographer's jeans. He didn't have a belt, and she made quick work of the button and the zipper in her way. They crumpled down his legs in a gratifying crumple of denim, and now only his boxers were in the way of her eager hands.

He was hard. Her right hand stroked the underside of it repeatedly, feeling its curvature strain against the fabric, the head almost poking out from the elastic of his waistband. She enjoyed how her dainty ministrations made his kisses more aggressive, resuming the pace they had abandoned before he ate her out.

His tongue was poking against her cheek in wild lashes, saliva streaming down her cheeks now. He obviously liked the upper hand and wanted to keep it. He started fondling her breast again, prompting Minako to stroke him with her padded fingers faster. When he started to pinch her nipples, making her let out helpless squeals into his aggressive mouth, Minako's hands shot out and roughly pulled down his boxers, his cock whipping out wildly.

She started stroking him, fingers grasping him from the base and stroking all the way up, bringing his foreskin over his cockhead before stretching it back down again. She didn't give him mercy, just like he didn't to her, and soon enough, the photographer buckled and conceded, breaking from Minako's lips to groan.

She grinned maliciously at his eyes, how dark and horny they were.

It was just about time to show him that she wasn't as inexperienced as he might have assumed.

The photographer was brought down to the couch next to her once more, boxers around his thighs, jeans shackling his ankles. She crawled over him, a few more swipes of her tongue between his teeth as she straddled his lap, completely nude sans the big red bow behind her head and the red and gold earrings that dangled from her earlobes.

Hands found her hips, and again, she felt his need for control. She let him have it, cooperating when he pressed his fully-erect shaft against her tight stomach, precum beginning to stain her skin.

In her position she finally saw just how well-endowed he was. He definitely wasn't a monster or anything, but the photographer was for sure at least an inch or two above the average. She thought back to her exes and wondered if age had anything to do with it…

Those thoughts were wiped clean when another more serious one pierced through the haze of her lust.

"W-Wait," she said, eyes in a small panic when the photographer lifted her body, poising her eager pussy over his cock. He looked up at her, impatiently. "Don't you have any Trojans or anything?"

The photographer shook his head.

"Not on me." A grin found his mouth again. "I can go run down the street and get some...if you wanna wait."

Minako let out a frustrated groan, at the fact that she would have to run to the clinic for some plan b's the next morning, and the shiteating grin on his face.

Wordlessly, she grabbed the cock beneath her, and lowered her full weight onto it.

"F-Fuck!" She cursed for the first time as inch after inch was slowly swallowed up by her core. Her hands found the grips of the photographer's shoulders, and her nails found the grips of his skin.

The photographer was obviously in no better shape, and the fact that he was gritting his teeth, his hands gripping her shapely hips as tightly as she gripped his shoulders gave Minako a second's worth of reprieve before the feeling of this stranger's manmeat completely stuffing her to the brim turned her every thought into useless chaff.

He was soon hilted, and the bottom of Minako's thighs kissed the top of his.

She panted, feeling his prick poke at her guts, stretching out every possible inch inside her. What he didn't have in length, he definitely made up for in girth.

She looked up at him, sweat already starting to make her blonde bangs stick to her forehead. It was obvious the photographer was impressed, and somewhat surprised that Minako wasn't a virgin. But he definitely wasn't disappointed either. She leaned forward, giving him a singular kiss.

With that, Minako's hips began their work.

In a circular range of motion, moved upwards before easing down onto his lap again, her inner muscles slowly growing more and more accustomed to him with each cycle. The photographer's tight grip on her hips aided her in keeping a consistent trajectory, and in due time a pace was found.

There was one of Minako's favorite summer jams on the radio now, but just like the bikini top that was forlorn on top of it, the song went ignored; the only rhythm she cared about was the repeated slapping of her skin against his as she swallowed up his eager cock into her eager body again and again.

Her moans flowed out as much as the quim that began to travel down the length of her legs. She intentionally tightened her core with every single motion of her body as she continued aiming the photographer's lust into a certain spot inside her that drove her mad.

Gold of her earrings twinkled with the refractions of the nearby pool as they began to swing wildly from her ears. The pace was fast now, and Minako was earnestly riding this photographer for all he was worth. That naughty mouth of his found her chest again, and Minako couldn't help but giggle when an orgasm welled up in her, the friction of her clit sliding wetly against his swollen and veiny meat too much to handle.

In due time, she felt the photographer aid her efforts in more than just a firm grip on her body; he started thrusting up into her, meeting her thrusts in wet slaps of their skin.

But what encouraged Minako further, what made her hornier with every passing minute of their impromptu sex, was how he looked at her. His dark, hazy, horny eyes were wandering all of her the front of her body. As sweat slowly made a sheen glow on the ivory of her skin, she could feel his gaze on her breasts, wander to the smoothness of her arms, down the tightness of her belly and her navel, off to the sides to admire the silky longness of her legs, to the point of their connection, admiring how her pussy so eagerly sucked him back in with every movement of her hips.

He would meander all over Minako's body, obviously imprinting every quality and curve of her lithe, slender teenage body into his memory. It was no wonder he was a photographer. As she continued slamming down onto his crotch, the photographer's eyes made her feel like a piece of art.

It was in a moment of rapturous orgasm that Minako wondered if striving to be an idol was even worth it, when the gaze of a single man was enough to make her satisfied tenfold.

The photographer reached his finish in just a few more desperate upwards thrusts, and before Minako could protest, he shoved her body down onto his, arms bringing her close and tight, forcing her breasts to pillow against his chest as he bit into her shoulder and came.

Minako made an effort to tighten her core, coaxing out every throb of his prick. She sighed at the sensation of it, feeling the photographer's spunk begin to shoot into her in one thick spurt, then two, then three. He grunted into her skin, teeth leaving yet another mark as his hips made little jerks up into her, cum shooting in piping hot wads of sticky white, filling up her womb.

She had only let one of her exes creampie her, and it that was her first boyfriend back in middle school. Minako had forgotten how divine the feeling was, how connected it made her feel. She squirmed at just how much semen filled her, but Minako savored every single spurt all the same.

Vestiges her namesake flashed through her closed eyes. The swirling, passionate clouds of her mother star, Venus, raged through her skin. The fiery gold of carnal love swelled inside her, and Minako was reminded of romances buried in the sands of millenia, of arms that held her on sweaty sheets at the end of passionate escapades in her private quarters of Magellan Castle.

She opened her eyes again, and Minako felt the last spurt of cum shoot into her, and felt the grip of the photographer go limp. The fleeting memories of lifetimes and lovers past faded away, and all she could feel now was how satisfying it felt to have hot spunk slosh around inside of her.

Labored breaths brushed against her shoulder now as she pushed back to look at the photographer.

He was sweating profusely now, at least, much more comparatively to the thin sheen of perspiration on her skin.

"Shit, Mina, I-I'm sorry about that I didn't-"

A finger shushed him. And she let the finger stay before slipping down his lips slowly.

She was made aware of how hard he still was inside her, and once again she was inexplicably seeing glimpses of another man's face that looked almost exactly the same as the photographer's, looking up at her just as he did, from a silver time long forgotten.

Without many more words, Minako dismounted. She and the photographer let out small little hisses at how he exited, raw from her equally-raw folds. Spunk immediately started to spurt out from between her legs, white goop spilling down her legs. She made a bit of a mess as she positioned herself next to the photographer, this time on her back.

She looked at him expectantly, smiling coyly as a finger slipped down between her, more cum tumbling out onto the sofa's cushions-they'd worry about the stains later.

There was the sound of jeans being kicked away, then a subsequent snap of elastic as boxers were done away with too. In less than a few more moments, the photographer was between those legs, and in a few moments more, he was inside her again.

Minako mewled, hands reaching up above her head to grip the armrest as the photographer lost himself inside her body. Stickiness of his previous climax was scraped out from her inner folds with every outwards snap of his hips, sticking to his crotch and forming goopy hot strings as he thrust into her, increasing his pace with every reentry. Wood of the sofa creaked and groaned as much as the couple moaned.

Eyes hazy with increasing lust looked down at Minako as the sex grew more passionate and less controlled. A groan escaped her as her body was rocked with yet another climax; there was something about the way his meat stuffed her with a layer of sticky spunk lubricating his every entry that made the sex feel that much better, that much more delightful.

She let out another hapless groan when her the photographer linked his elbows to the pits of her knees, bringing her legs up to her shoulders. It stretched her more than she ever had been in sex, and Minako was suddenly grateful for her long tireless hours in gymnastics (alongside various other sports).

In this position, the photographer let loose completely. Passionate sex turned into wild fucking as his thighs smashed wetly into her. Minako could only bring her body towards his, bringing the pace to its peak. The photographer's eager cock raided her deep and well, and as he brought her to another climax in the middle of the roughest sex Minako had ever experienced, he shuddered into his second one of the day, hilting himself once more to give Minako's fertile womb another thick and hearty helping of sticky cum.

He let gravity do the work, barely moving his hips as jets of spunk shot out inside of of her. Thick dollops of cum immediately began to lewdly spurt out of their point of connection, further staining the sofa cushions as the photographer continued to hiss and curse his way through the climax.

Minako once again savored every second of it, mewling and feeling more like a woman than she ever had as seed found every corner of her already-full womb. When the photographer's climax finally puttered out into a few last shots, she found herself wanting more.

He looked down at her, definitely much more weary than when they began, but once again, Minako found that he was still firm inside her, and his eyes swirled with all the passion of Venus' storms.

"I didn't think...we'd last this long," he said in admittance.

"Well…" Minako said, breathlessly. "I hope you last a hell of a lot longer."

With her legs unhindered by his arms, she clasped them around his back, bringing him into her. Their mouths found each other, and soon the groan of the sofa's struggling structural integrity was mingled with muffled moans and yet another synthy city pop banger, filtered through red forlorn swimwear.

Skin slapped roughly against skin as the photographer drove his hips mercilessly into Minako's ass. Streams of cum bubbled between them, splattering with sweat every time his drives snapped into the tightness of her rear.

"Just aungh a little more, baby, that's it…!"

Minako's voice escaped her throat in husky squeals. She lost count of how many times she let the photographer empty his balls into her snatch, much less how many times her body shivered into mind-numbing climax.

She tilted her face a few inches to her right, finding the photographer's lips. Kisses were exchanged wetly, the hand she gripped behind his head bringing their mouths closer.

They were standing, fucking with Minako's sweaty back causing wet friction against the photographer's chest and abs. One of his hands were gripped tightly into one of her breasts, while the other kept relentlessly rubbing her clit. Minako's red bow was on the ground next to their feet, both of them fully nude save for the earrings that still twinkled as brightly as the streams of sweat that covered her entire body.

The photographer pushed her down, easing Minako into reaching out to the outdoor sofa with her hands, gripping tight as her body almost made a perfect right angle. Her ample breasts swung below her, flinging off sweat, further staining the couch cushions as their rough unhindered fucking reached a fever pitch.

Palms pressed down against her shoulders, and the photographer made forceful grunts as he pushed himself through the tightness of yet another of Minako's orgasms.

They continued in this position, with the photographer's cock pistoning into her tightness from behind, their legs still possessing the stamina to continue their romp until finally, the photographer's hands clasped tight and hard onto Minako's hips. More ropes of thick cum shot into her, most of it spilling out onto the ground below them, adding to the puddle like melted soft serve.

Minako could only pant and let out an elongated groan as she hiccuped with aftershocks, her body's nervous system almost overloaded with just how many times she had put it under the strain of orgasm.

They caught their collective breath, and Minako could feel his eyes on her back. Her long blonde stuck to her skin now, strands of it that rested right atop the dimples of above her ass cheeks meandering in small golden streams, clumping up with other strands in blonde rivers. She was a mess, but at this point it was apparent no matter how messy she got, the photographer would still think she was beautiful.

Once again she was thankful for all of the extracurricular sports she was involved in.

Because even now, Minako could only think of how much better it would feel if she milked just a little more seed into her body.

They uncoupled, and she turned around to exchange more passionate kisses with this stranger she had claimed as her own.

Then, with a very intentional and deadly sashay, Minako found a nearby table.

She turned around once she got to it, giving the photographer the full sight of her tall, slender body in the nude, wet with sweat, whiteness of previous loads spilling between her thighs, cheeks flushed red, nipples pink and pebbly.

Then, she hoisted herself up onto the table, and with a bite of her lip, spread her legs. A small stream of white slowly spilled between them, and soon it tumbled over the edge of the table in long sticky cascades.

"You got one more in you?" Minako said, voice hoarse but still eager.

The photographer made his way over. With a sigh, he ran his legs over her wet thighs, his cock still hard and already making its way towards the abused red folds that leaked his efforts of hours gone by.

"Maybe. Maybe two."

He was soon hilted again, and in no time at all they were making love, making lust, more moans calling out over the Tokyo traffic below.

The photographer grunted as he sped up.

"Maybe three."

Orange soaked the pool area of the penthouse in a fiery haze.

Music lilted lazily from a portable radio, this time unhindered by the obstacle of a bikini top.

Minako and her impromptu lover sat in the placid waters of a jacuzzi that wasn't turned on, watching as twilight began to enroach upon the soft hues of the wilting sky.

She had her head cradled onto his chest, his arm was firmly around her shoulders. Their sweat was all washed off from an earlier swim, but in the water there was still evidence of their rough and tumble affair that drifted up to the surface in splotchy white wads.

"Your parents care about curfew?"

Minako shook her head.

"I'm a model now. They understand my hours can get a little whacky."

She closed her eyes, enjoying the breeze of a cooling summer day, chlorinated water on her skin, the idle heartbeat of a virile, hunky cutie against her ear. For the first time in hours, her muscles weren't tensed, or straining in effort; in the coolness of the water, her weary sinews went lax.

She felt the photographer nuzzle into her scalp.

"You're a goddess, you know that?"

It was cheesy, but the sentiment made her smile. She opened her eyes and saw the sun was finally dipped below the pacific, and neon began to flicker alight across the city. Indigo bled into the receding orange, and in the far distance, Minako saw the orange wink of Venus.

"Close."