Sometimes I get feedback from people asking if I take the pictures myself.
The answer is - unfortunately - no. What I do is borrow pictures from the web and then render them. The pictures I choose to work with have to be interesting in some way (a good indicator is if I get a hard-on) and they have to be of at least some technical quality.
Then I work with them in Photoshop. Often I crop them, add or delete things, but mostly it's a question of lighting and color.

Above you can see a picture I found at Imagefap and decided to do some work on.
Pictures like this make me wonder. Here is someone putting up a lot of money, hiring some good-looking people, a studio, photographer and what not and ending up with something so utterly boring. Look at the color of that sofa! Look at the face of the girl, her expression! Is that supposed to be an intimate moment, cosy love-making or passionate sex? Does it convey lust, pleasure? Love, sex?
No, she's obviously sick and he's examining her. Or maybe she's thinking of her dead mother or the un-paid bills while the poor guy is trying to cheer her up, or maybe he's looking for something he dropped.
Why do they bother?
Below is the result of some small changes. Admittedly not a prize-winner either, but at least it does evoke some interest. I chopped off her head, put her in a cosy red sofa, dimmed the lights and put some juice in her pussy.
Now I get a hard-on.

He saw her as soon as he walked in through the glass doors, his hand on the brass railing, walking up the few steps to the counter. He twitched and snapped, almost stopping dead in his tracks, his balls guzzling. Their eyes met and she opened her mouth just slightly, enough for him to get a glimpse of it, to catch a little peice of the wet and pink inside.
He sat down at a table where he could watch her as she served the visitors, when she pointed to the bookshelves, took care of kids and old ladies, students and answered the phone occasionally. He undressed her, kissed her, had his cock in her mouth, held her ass. His cock was hard and he rubbed it when he thought no-one was looking.
He could see that she was painfully aware of him, he could tell she was wet, her knees weak. The swing of the hips as she walked was just slightly exaggerated, her smile when she spoke faint, her eyes clouded.
Suddenly she turned and walked toward him pushing a little book-cart. She didn't cast an eye on him, just kept her dim eyes focused behind him and brushed past. He could feel the electricity around her, the soft scent of perfume blended with moist seaweed and earth on her trail as she entered a door just behind him. There was no issue, no doubt. He got to his feet, trying to conceal the bulge in his pants, walked in through the same door.
She was standing with her back to him, the tiny room almost black, with her skirt already on the floor, pulling off her panties. He grabbed her neck, his hard fingers almost choking her while he let down his pants.
"What do you want?" he whispered in her ear, "what do you want?"
She trembled as his grip tightened, he tore off her blouse and brazier, raised his voice
"What do you want I asked?" as he released the grip around her throat, his hard cock pressing the small of her back.
She couldn't say a word, her mouth was dry, as if all her bodily fluids had rushed down to her cunt. He pulled her hard nipples, his cock now forcing its' way between her thighs.
She breathed hard, hot tears in her eyes and started whispering strange sounds, trying to find the little muscles she needed to speak, eventually forming small words in whispers as he pressed on.
"I want..."
"Say it" he demanded, his hands holding her hard, his mouth close to her ear.
"I need to..." her voice trailed off, weak, insufficient.
"What do you need?"
"I need to be... fucked" she said. "I need you to fuck me. God, I want to be fucked hard, right here..." Her voice staggered and went into a swirl as he folded her over and pressed his cock into her, grabbing her hips and plunging into her, oily liquids creating sounds of wetness, mixing with their groans, she held her hands against a bookcase as he worked her, his cock a tool, a plough in her wet groove, "this is what you need", his hand clutching her red sweaty hair, pulling her throat back hard, the sinews in her throat almost snapping while he banged her, his balls slapping her, her throat gargling, saliva running from her chin, his cock growing with every thrust and he let go and turned her, lifted her in his arms, spreading her wide open and pushing in, she sat on him, pivoting on his thrusting dick, slipping, holding on to him she came with a whine when she felt his head explode and the semen flow inside her. He roared and cramped, gritting teeth, pushing, thrusting, unloading as far inside of her as he could reach.
Somehow she lay on the floor. She heard him dress and the door opened and closed again.

Garm's Kiss

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