The Photo Booth - (futa/f, excessive cum, cumflation, futadom)

Sammy fiddled around with her purse as she walked down the cool foyer, staying out of the roasting noon-day sunshine. The detritus of the day was, as usual, preventing her from finding her passport registration form and the instructions she was after, printed on the back of it, of course. With a shake, she delegated the job to her future self of a few minutes time and went to open the tall, heavy doors to the shopping centre.

With a grin, she stepped back as she saw a hugely pregnant woman on the other side of the entrance, that heavy, waddling gait propelling her slowly forward, like a prettily glowing barge. And what a belly too! This woman must have been pregnant with multiples under the long, light summer coat she wore.

Sammy wasn't a lesbian by any stretch of the imagination, but she was forced to admire this blonde fertility goddess, a transcendent figure whose smile was warm and even slightly giddy as she thanked Sammy for letting her through. How this glorious looking lady could fit into a skintight little black dress was beyond her.

The creaking of the stiletto heels under the woman's immense gravid weight also drew Sammy's notice.

Well, she thought, giving the woman an encouraging wink, even carrying around a litter, a girl deserves to look and feel good sometimes!

The lady returned the wink with a rather more conspiratorial one of her own as they parted, Sammy bouncing inside as was her habit.

/////

It was the clothes, Sammy knew. She turned into an outrageous flirt when she was wearing her gym gear and showing off her bod. Her tight body was a source of constant satisfaction to her and, as she caught a pair of admiring glances from two lean, handsome teens, she remembered why all over again.

Still, she wasn't just here to cock-tease the talent, she had to get some photographs taken and be off to an afternoon tea with friends before her husband came back from his office and treated her to a night out. She loved being the alpha babe in her group, with the best house, most handsome husband (even if his eyes did occasionally wander) the tightest little hardbody at the gym and what did it cost her? Sex once a month? Come on!

The photobooth was tucked away down one of the side routes, tucked behind the now ubiquitous information desk, having moved from it's spot by the toilets for now in order to let them close off that part of the mall for renovation and refit. It didn't particularly matter to Sammy where it was, but she had preferred being able to do some last minute makeup in the toilets the previous time; she liked to look her best.

Still, she checked herself in the mirrored glass of one of the store fronts, fingers darting up to tug a lock this way or that and get her hair looking nice. She loved this colour for her hair, a sort of chocolatey russet that had so much depth... unfortunately, her vivid red roots were coming through again, but it wasn't too noticeable, and certainly not in a photo the size of a postage stamp.

Walking over to the booth, she nodded in passing at the blonde behind the information desk and received an absent, if polite, nod in return, the woman's expression distracted. Upon reaching the photobooth Sammy resumed digging around in her purse and found the instructions: face front, don't smile, eyes two thirds up the image, no glasses etc. She read the list of items and then quickly flipped the paper over before checking the information again. With a brief nod to herself, she looked at the operation instructions printed on the side of the booth and then made to step inside.

She stopped.

Someone had left their strip of photos in the dispenser, unclaimed and disregarded.

She collected the photos and looked at them. She turned them the other way up.

She gasped.

/////

The first image was a badly framed shot of the same woman she had seen leaving the mall moments earlier. It was difficult to tell, but Sammy could make out a figure sat behind the woman, slender arms wrapped about the woman's waist. That really wasn't what she was looking at though. She was admiring a close-up view of those same stiletto heels, spread to either side of the camera lens, and framing a glistening gash that was stretched around a beefy, thick cock.

The woman's belly was flat though, the skirt hiked up onto a gentle curve of taut belly.

The second picture was more instructive, the woman's face contorted in a grimace of bit-lip pleasure, a breast flopping out of her top and mauled by a pale hand. The flesh of her belly was visibly distended in this shot, and her succulent s

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