coffeethyme4me: (Diana Cuff Necklace/Gun)
[personal profile] coffeethyme4me
Title: Do It
Author: [personal profile] coffeethyme4me
Pairing: Marsha/Tiffani (fictionalized)
Rating: NC-17
Warning: RPF
Words: 740
Written for [community profile] mmom's day 12.
Blame: THIS POST -- and [personal profile] rabidchild67 for daring me. ;-)
Summary: The photoshoot gets a teensy bit out of hand.

It had started as a joke, with Marsha pulling her squirt gun on Tiffani, Tiffani’s hands going up. It had started with the idle threat of Marsha using her cuff necklace for something besides decoration. But then the cameras had come out, and somebody had directed her to keep going.

“It’ll be great!” someone encouraged.

Marsha didn’t even know who had egged them on. But then she had Tiffani pressed to a wall, and she held her wrists together over her head. The other of her hands still gripped the gun, which she was trailing it up the outside of Tiffani’s thigh.


And then she was dragging the gun down Tiffani’s cleavage and watching her lips. She took a chance and pulled the fabric of the dress down even lower, exposing more with the barrel of her gun.

“That’s good. God, that’s good.” Snap.

Marsha looked into Tiffani’s eyes – there was a silent agreement – so Marsha flipped her around and brought her wrists behind her back. She cuffed her. She smoothed Tiffani’s hair off her neck and brought her lips close.


“Wait,” Tiffani said. “Let me arch my back more.”

And then she did, and it pushed her lush ass into Marsha’s crotch. It pushed her killer breasts out. Marsha slid a hand around her middle, up her ribs a little.


“Do it,” Tiffani said.

Marsha palmed the gun again and nudged the underside of Tiffani’s breast with it. Tiffani shuddered.

“Oh my God, this is perfect.” Snap.

“Pat me down,” Tiffani instructed softly.

Marsha set the gun aside but hesitated.

“Go on.”

So Marsha, her breathing shallow, cupped Tiffani’s breasts in her hands, and she heard Tiffani’s high little whine.


She slid her hands down her stomach, down over her belly, almost too low.


Marsha knelt and slid her hands up Tiffani’s calves.


She was too busy shimmying Tiffani’s shirt up her thighs to notice them there, but she distinctly heard Matt’s voice as she very nearly bared Tiffani’s perfect ass.

“Oh my God, do we get to do that, too? All I got is an apple.”

“I got crime tape,” Tim answered suggestively.

“Shh!” someone else admonished. “They might stop!”

It was then that Marsha became intensely aware of how far they’d gone – of the photographic evidence. It could all be dismissed. It was the photographer’s idea. No big deal. Marsha licked her lips, straightened Tiffani’s skirt for her, and then fumbled for the keys to the cuffs.

“That’s enough, guys,” she called to the crew and the rather large crowd of on-lookers they’d attracted.

There was an audible, “Awww,” of disappointment.

Tiffani turned to her, a sweet little smirk on her lips. She slid her hand down Marsha’s arm, down to her wrist. “Thank you,” she said. It was maybe the last thing Marsha had expected to hear. Then Tiffani walked away.

Marsha had to pass Matt and Tim to get past the cameras. “That was smokin’,” Matt told her, beaming.

“You guys have amazing chemistry,” Tim added.

Marsha, distracted by the needs of her own body, shot back a “Yeah, you, too,” not really even hearing her own voice. She was watching Tiffani’s retreating ass, perfectly held and shown off in that tight skirt.

Marsha swallowed and made her way quickly to the ladies’ room.

She slammed into a stall, cursing that she hadn’t grabbed her purse first. There was a fabulous little vibe in there masquerading as a flashlight. But this couldn’t wait, and it wasn’t going to take much anyway.

Marsha undid her pants and shoved them down. She went at her clit with something like fury. She was already so wet she could hear it. She braced one hand against the wall and fingered herself hard. She remembered the feel of Tiffani’s full breasts in her hands, the desire she’d had to brush just one of her thumbs, the one nobody else could see, over her nipple. The desire she’s had to slip the gun up between her thighs, to run it along Tiffani’s cunt.

It had been a long time since Marsha had eaten pussy. But she wanted it so bad right now she could very nearly taste it in her mouth.

She came, bucking and biting back guttural moans of pleasure. She came with Tiffani’s soft tits in her mouth – Tiffani’s thighs opening for her – Tiffani’s voice echoing in her mind, “Do it.”


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