All that we are, stares back at what we are. We all approach a photograph of ourself in the nude, with not a stitch on with a vicarious thrill. I have ten photographs of me in the nude taken by my wife at the time ten years ago. Not bad at all, I think to myself. In one she is masturbating me. Its a great shot of the Prince Albert, and her hand with hippie rings on her fingers, and the head of my cock, lush and inviting her mouth to cover it.
I am exploring my naked body in the camera. It's a thrill. I keep going back to the pic where I am eating her out. We were both pissed and set the camera up to click away as we fucked on the lounge floor. Getting her lower body into the right angle so I could place my mouth, and tongue, into her snatch took a bit of doing. I can still taste her. Taste her moist cunt in my mouth. In one pic I am looking over the brow of her pelvis, my mouth firmly embedded in her pussy.
My wife has a way of playing with my balls which I like very much. I'd lie there while she played, holding my ball bag in her hand, looking at my cock. twisting, and pulling it, sometimes kissing it, sucking it, while it is pissing down outside with rain. She moves my balls around, weighing each one carefully in her hand, rolling them between her fingers. My cock getting excited, sticking up like a witches broom.