Mary Jane knew that the message she had sent yesterday evening in a moment of fancy couldn't be counted amongst the smartest decision she had done, especially when the target replied quickly in agreement, with a promise to pick her up early in the morning, to not to miss the golden light of the early morning.

"It's just a professional photoshoot, nothing to be worried about," she repeated to herself as she waited in front of the door, a small bag with several sets of clothes in her hands. But even as she murmured, she knew that it was a poor excuse. After all, her resolution didn't last long in their tutoring session. And the make things even worse, she had nothing external to blame. No alcohol, no party, no romantic dinner to awe her, not even a rival to make jealous…

Just pure, unadulterated lust.

And she wasn't delusional enough to claim that she actually wanted to hold back, after all, it that had been the case, she would have chosen something a bit more modest than skin-tight jeans and a white crop-top that competed fairly in the department of tightness, its sexiness further enhanced by the deep cleavage it was sporting. Her obvious lack of bra was just the icing in the cake. She had a leather jacket with her, but she kept it in her hand. She knew exactly the impression it would create, but the heat pooling between her legs whenever she remembered their little game in the classroom, where he had shown the extent of skill his long fingers had.

If only she could discover why it also made her mind flash the best sex she ever had with a different man, her hero, on a rooftop, under the moonlight…

Her heartbeat sped up the moment she heard the distinctive sound of the engine, signaling Peter was just around the corner. She hated herself when her hands rose in their own accord to pull down her shirt, deepening her cleavage further. When he pulled in front of her, and removed his helmet to remove his confident smirk, she realized the true depth of her mistake, but it was too late to back out.

"Morning, MJ," he said as he slid off the bike.

"M-morning, tiger," she replied, annoyed by her involuntary stammer. She had been trying to awe her, not to look like an infuriated high schooler! She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the effect his chuckle had on her heartbeat, but while she was busy with that, he was already in front of her, one of his hands wrapped around her wrist.

Her lips parted open as he leaned forward, ignoring her orders to enjoy the rush his hot breath brought, anticipating a kiss; which was why she was surprised when he pulled back just as sudden, leaving a piece of metal in her hand. "You wouldn't mind driving, would you?" he asked, the smirk on his face telling her that he was very aware of the effect he had left.

"Might be interesting," she answered as she walked past him, making sure to put an excessive sway on her hips. When she checked him through the reflection of the bike, she was happy to see his gaze glued on her hips. He wasn't the only one that knew how to tease.

With a smirk, she put the jacket on, and sent a matching smirk before her face hidden by the helmet. "Hop on, tiger," she said as she patted the backseat, which Peter took, his smirk still on his face. She didn't blame him, after all, what was there to be unsatisfied. She was well-aware of her sexiness, and his hands around her naked stomach had preferential access to said sexiness.

"Where to," Mary Jane asked.

"I know a beach, it's not a short drive, but it's not crowded, and has a nice view. It'll be a good backdrop for your headshots." He quickly described the route, and as soon as he was finished, MJ turned on the engine, and they were throttling through the streets of New York with impressive speed.

She felt herself relax as the freedom of the road infused her, the oppressive cover of buildings around them getting lower and lower. It didn't help to reduce the heat pooling between her legs of course, but at least, his hands stayed still.

And the excitement only enhanced the pleasure she was feeling, especially when they first moved to the highway, crisscrossing between the other vehicles with great speed, occasional laughter of trill escaping her mouth, though she would lie if she said she hadn't felt any panic. But as usual, Peter chose that moment to act supportive, gently tightening his grip to convey support. She was glad that they were moving too fast for anyone to get a good view of her, because her nipples were rock-hard in excitement, and her crop-top was rather poor in hiding it.

Ironically, the drive started to get monotonous as the distance between them and the city increased, the emptiness of the road only broken by occasional car. Soon, Peter started to move like he was able to read her mind. His motions were subtle at first, easily to be mistaken for looking for a better grip, but even then, it brought a strong desire to the surface.

The effect only increased when she left the highway for a country road, its earthen surface filled with bumps, each jump adding a small jolt of pleasure to her already heated body. She wasn't surprised when his hands started to dance over her stomach with a greater purpose in that exact moment; his impressive ability to read her exact mood was starting to become familiar.

But familiar didn't mean ineffective, as she learned the hard way as his little finger slipped under her shirt, caressing the edge of her breasts, just enough to conjure images of more heated memories. A part of her wanted to throw him off, the other part of her wanted to bring his hands higher to give her poor breasts, beaten down by the wind, the cover they needed. Neither his sharp presence, nor his erect manhood pressing against her back helped her to contain her emotions.

A part of her wanted that filtering out all these sensations was an option, but she knew that it was an exercise in futility, especially when even her own body didn't cooperate with her, her arousal continuing to build up. As the bumps on the roads got worse, so did the vibrations that were filling her body, to a point that she started to contemplate an early stop to relieve the pressure; though with or without Peter's assistance, she wasn't sure.

Soon, the drive, assisted by his wandering hands, turned into a special kind of hell, every bump, every crevice on the road making her body burning for a release that she couldn't attain without a surrender. Calling for an early stop was getting more and more attractive by each passing second, while having a victory in their little game dwindled in importance.

Before she could decide, he tapped her shoulder, and pointed to a small cove, hidden by rock formation well enough that she would have missed without him pointing. Perfect place for a photoshoot, though much to her shame, it was the second use case that popped into her mind, the first one with a well-deserved mature rating.

Once again, Peter was quicker to act. Before she could decide one way or another, Peter had already jumped off the bike, and pulled his camera from the side bag. "Don't move, the sight is perfect," he called, and before she could react, his finger was already pressing the shutter button, a strong click informing her that the view had been immortalized even before she could remove the helmet.

"Excellent," he said, his eyes falling down to her chest, which reminded her of the rather obscene view she had on display, enough to make her glad that she was still wearing a helmet, as it hid her sudden blush. After all, not only her thin shirt was a poor cover for her stiff nipples, but his earlier caresses had left it out of alignment, making her display a generous dash of the breast under her shirt as well.

She reached to fix it, but she met with a quirked eyebrow with an underlined challenge, managing to put a dose of playful pressure on her courage without even saying something. A part of her wanted to pull back to her shell, but her competitiveness proved to be stronger; the same drive that drove her to drive a unique career to herself despite all the detractors.

And since she was going to take the challenge, she was going to take it in a significant way. She pulled the helmet off, her crimson hair flowing freely, creating a view that he immortalized repeatedly. He took several photos with the helmet locked under her arm, focusing on creating the quintessential image of the dirty biker girl.

If she was going to be naughty, she was going to be the naughtiest she could be.

Soon, she dropped the helmet temporary, and her leather jacket permanently. Technically, it was wrapped around her waist, but around there, it barely served its aim to keep her body covered. Under the gentle lights of the morning sun, wearing a thin top, MJ knew that she looked spectacular. The bulge in Peter's pants definitely agreed.

Still, despite his clear enjoyment of the moment, his directions stayed more on minor posing and expression details, not trying to convince her to undress more. She would have liked him to do otherwise, giving her plausible deniability on the next steps. The worst was the smirk on his face, confirming that it was completely intentional on his part.

MJ decided to push the envelope. Her fingers slid down over her naked stomach until they reached the button of her jeans, popping it up with one smooth movement, pulling the zipper down just a moment later, just enough to reveal the edge of the black lacy lingerie she had chosen for the day.

Then, the same restless fingers found the hem of her shirt, folding it a couple of times until it gave a hint of her spectacular breasts for the camera.

"You look tasty enough to eat," Peter murmured between the commands. Previous times, it made her blush and feel shy. But this time, with the adrenaline coursing through her veins, with her heart already thumping with excitement; it had the opposite effect. With a sudden burst of confidence, she turned her back, and with a smooth motion, get rid of her top, leaving it hanging on one of the mirrors, revealing just a hint of side-boob for her photographer.

"Brave choice, but amazing instincts," he added, admiration and arousal taking equal parts in his voice, which didn't help to quench the heat that was pooling between her legs any. She couldn't believe her courage. It was not her at all. The shutter of his camera exploded into action, at times even matching the beat of her heart. She even turned to face him, her breasts covered only by the deficient approximation her arm could take in place of a bra, and it was not even a particularly stable one. But with her reward of a smoldering gaze from his photographer, she found her arm had a dangerous tendency to slide away at the most inconvenient of times.

Soon, the constant moving managed to take its toll. Her jeans slid down enough to reveal that on the back, her panties resembled a g-string more than proper underwear. But realizing the explosive impact of her well-maintained curves on him, she made sure to spend most of her time with her back turned to the camera, often leaning against his bike, her breasts pressing against the leather of the seat.

But she managed to shock herself when she covered behind the bike for a moment, only to throw her jeans on the bike as well, though she put her knee-length boots back on immediately after. Excitement and desire and fear exploded in her mind, giving her lightheadedness similar to the time she had decided to enjoy a glass one too much wine, minus the haze that came with the loss of control. But her complete mental control didn't matter much when her own body decided to disobey her.

She noticed too late that her fingers had slid inside her panties, softly circling her clit, under the deficient cover provided by the bike. Thankfully, Peter stayed on the other side, but his camera continued to click, something that just made the moment even more exciting.

"Why don't you take a seat on the bike once more," Peter asked her, his voice jolting her back to reality enough to pull her hand away. When she took the seat once more, she was very aware of the wet patch that she left on the seat, her legs crossed to hide the soppy state of her panties, her arms desperately trying to hide her chest. "Magnificent, but I need to fix just one little thing," he added before starting to walk towards the bike.

But his steps weren't the rapid, professional steps of a photographer that aims to minimize the time loss to get the most photos in the shortest time. No, he walked slowly, prowling like a panther, each step soft and measured, aware that he had his prey hypnotized with his grace. And she waited, motionless other than the desperate thumping of her heart, and her tongue darting out to moisten her suddenly dry lips.

"I need to fix this," he said as he slid his hand under the string of her panties. From the side, much to her desperation, as she would have liked nothing more than for his hand to delve directly to the front, exploring the same areas she had busy teasing just moments ago. But things turned really difficult when he leaned forward, his lips once again just inches away from hers, his fingers still hooked on her panties, gently caressing her side with each move.

Once again instead of delving into her lips, he hovered just an inch away, using his other hand to fix a stray of hair, then pulled back equally slowly, temping her to lean forward, therefore admitting the defeat in their little game. And Mary Jane had no intention of being the one to admit defeat, not when she was sitting on a bike, wearing just panties and knee-high boots, her crimson hair making waves on the soft breeze. It was the perfect time to push for victory.

And Mary Jane knew the perfect way to do it. Her hand slid along grabbed the edge of her panties. "I'm not sure the issue had been fixed correctly," she gasped. "But I know exactly how to handle it." With that, she snapped it off with a sharp tug, raised her hand, leaving it to fly into the air under Peter's appreciative gaze…

Their little game was about to get real intense…

Author notes: For once, Peter's job as a photographer is going to pay dividends...

As usual, you can find my original writing in P/atreon / dirk_grey.