She had a good eye, whoever she was. Her username for the photography group was JANET followed by a string of numbers, so I presumed the person was a she. There was something sensual about the pictures she shared. I was entranced by them.

We were an online group, all of us interested in photography. We critiqued each other’s work in a helpful manner. We discussed composition, lighting and how to capture those perfect lightning-strike moments out in the world.

I didn’t have any illusions that I could make a living taking pictures, but now and again, walking around my city, I snapped something with my camera phone that had some artistic worth, I thought. I’d catch a pigeon in flight or a line of taxis in the rain that somehow seemed to speak to some deeper truth about the universe.

One time I asked a woman who was out walking her dog if I could take her picture. Amused, she said sure. I didn’t ask her to pose. I just took the shot, a single click, working on instinct alone. And it came out amazing — flawlessly framed, the twilight shadowing her features, even the dog adding something. I showed the woman, and she gaped happily.

“I look like a model!” she squealed. She did, too.

One thing led to another, and we ended up back at her place that evening — with the dog scratching at the bedroom door while I boned its mistress.

When, with the woman’s permission, I posted the dog-walking photo to the group, everybody gushed over it. Then Janet chimed in with: “That’s a lovely thing, Robert.” Her words made my stomach do schoolboy flip-flops. Janet’s photography had been seducing me for weeks. She could turn ordinary street scenes into vistas of incredible sensuality. Whenever she posted shots of people, they looked radiant, oozing a smoldering eroticism — even though they were fully dressed.

One day, she posted a photo that stopped me cold. It was of her usual quality, a cat on a fence with a patch of street beyond, the shot exquisitely balanced.

But what stunned me was that I recognized the street. It was in my city.

I’d seen photos in the group from faraway places, even locations overseas. But Janet’s picture had been taken only six blocks away from my place. Excited, I found the street. I even lined up the image I’d downloaded to my phone and figured out exactly where she’d stood to get her shot of the cat. Standing there, I felt a warm tingling, as if I were in her presence, like she was hovering nearby. In my fantasy, I imagined a sensuous smile on her inviting lips, her whole being emitting a sweet, sexy energy.

I had to find her! I checked her other photos and thought some of them had also been shot in the area. I set out to scour the whole neighborhood.

Of course, it was ridiculous. “Janet” might be a chunky middle-aged guy with a great eye for composition. If so, I was going to buy him a beer, if I found him. But if Janet was half as sexy as her photographs, I would kneel and kiss her feet. And then see if she’d let me kiss the rest of her.

Ludicrous or not, I spent the whole afternoon wandering the vicinity, a hopeful hard-on in my pants, looking around for a woman taking photos.

Eventually, though, my shutterbug urges kicked in, and I started taking pictures with my phone. I even tried duplicating a few of Janet’s shots, never getting it quite as good as hers, but interpreting the scenes in my own way.

I got so into it that I almost forgot my harebrained reason for being there in the first place.

As I set up to reproduce yet another of her shots, I heard a voice behind me: “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

I turned, filled with a premonition of who I would find. When I saw the woman, I asked in a shaky voice, “Janet?”

Because that had to be impossible, right?

But it wasn’t.

“Yes,” she said, smiling. “And you are?”

“Robert.”

Her eyes widened. She quickly recited my user name, down to the last digit.

“I’m glad to meet you,” she said.

I couldn’t have been happier myself. Janet was gorgeous — unbelievably so, more model-like than an actual model. She really did radiate a tangible sensuality, just like in my fantasies.

I told her what I was doing. She nodded, saying she’d been out for her evening photos, and had seen and followed me. She’d figured I had to be from the group since I kept going to places she’d previously shot.

“Want to come see more of my stuff?” she asked. Her lips were so inviting. My cock pulsed, and I followed her to her apartment.

She had framed photos on her walls. Some were magazine covers that she’d shot.

“You’re a pro,” I said, amazed. “Why do you bother with an online amateur group?”

“I like the feedback. I like seeing different perspectives.” She moved closer to me. “I like your work.” She brushed my cheek with her fingers. “Come to the bedroom. I want you to shoot me.”

I followed. She was already stripping out of her clothes. I gaped at the sight of her — glowing skin, magnificent tits and an ass like sculpture.

I fumbled with my phone and starting taking pictures. Everything was a blur. I was hypnotized by her bare form as my cock pulsed in my pants.

At some point, the phone fell out of my hands. Janet was tugging at my belt and clothing. Moments later, I was naked and she was in my arms, and our mouths were pressed together. Our tongues searched each other’s mouths. Her smooth skin felt so sensual against me as my desire burned like a wildfire.

We moved onto the spacious bed. Everything felt improbable but magical, like an erotic photo come to life. There was my fantasy woman, now solid, and we rolled around together on the mattress. We kissed furiously, and I caressed the beautiful swells of her breasts. She groped my ass and ground her mound against me.

My cock throbbed on her flat belly, and I rubbed myself there. Then I finally broke our devouring kiss and licked my way down her throat. When I reached her tits, she thrust them at me. I sucked on one, then the other. I batted her stiff nipples with my tongue before nibbling on the delicate buds. Janet squealed with delight.

I kept going downward, kissing a wet trail along her abdomen. It was obvious where I was heading. She opened her legs, and I settled between them, gazing down in rapture at her waiting cunt.

At first, I just grazed my lips over her pussy lips, feeling her slickness. I swiped my tongue along her slit, making her hips buck. Emboldened by her reaction, I began to feast on her.

My nose was in her cleft as I tongued her crazily. Her fingers wound into my hair as a cry rose in her throat. I kept my mouth in place as she reached the ultimate octave and shuddered violently.

Gasping, I settled beside her and lay on my back. Her sweet taste suffused my senses, and I panted giddily. She moved around on the bed, and suddenly, I felt her smooth shoulders pressing apart my thighs. I lifted my head and saw her mouth moving toward my erection.

At first contact I gasped again, this time with intense pleasure. Her tongue swirled smoothly over my cockhead, flicking at my slit and coming away with a small dewdrop of pre-come.

Her lips cinched around my knob, and her face dropped down my shaft. She swallowed me in a long uninterrupted plunge as her eyes rolled back in her head. Evidently, she liked the taste of me as much as I’d liked the taste of her.

Janet cradled my balls in a gentle grasp and began to seriously blow me. It was mesmerizing, seeing her head bob and feeling her quick, darting tongue as she took my cockhead into her throat.

I was about a quarter of the way to shooting my load when she pulled her mouth away. But I wasn’t disappointed for long. She hopped astride me, keeping me on my back. She took my spit-slick cock in her hand and fitted it against her dripping hole.

She dropped down onto me, and I cried out. The grasp of her pussy was awesome, and my skin felt hot and electric. I reached up to grope her tits as she rode me. As she bucked, her knees flexed and her hips rose and fell in smooth motions.

I tweaked her nips, and she whipped her head back and forth. She slammed down on me, and I thrust up. Our coupling was intense. Again, I was ramping up to blowing my wad. But then she bent back, like a bow with its string pulled taut.

She let out a howl that time, and I felt the orgasmic energy quaking through her. It seemed to lap at her damp skin with invisible heat as her pussy clutched me greedily.

When she began to go limp, I caught her and eased her onto her back. That left her spread before me, her sodden cunt a visual feast. She gazed up at me with half-lidded eyes, her lips curling into a sensual smile.

My cock was like steel, and I stroked into her. She quickly emerged from her orgasmic stupor and responded. Her hips moved, and her ass lifted off the bed as she met each of my downward thrusts. She reached up and crossed her wrists behind my neck.

I pounded her, bottoming out every time, and our bodies smacked together loudly. I rapidly approached the white-hot point of no return and hurled myself onward, feeling my balls humming and my cock twitching. She took every thrust I had to give.

In an instant, bliss grabbed me and I was lost. My come went shooting deep inside her, every bolt a new wrench of fantastic pleasure. She met my elation with her own, writhing through another climax.