"Honey, let's go someplace warm!" I ventured, as we started to plan our vacation. It'd been a long, cold winter, and I wanted to bake in the sun for a while.
"That's a great idea, darling. I've always wanted to photograph some of those fantastic land formations in places like The Arches, and Bryce Canyon," my husband, Jack, replied.
So, after a few lengthy planning sessions, pouring over maps and tourist guides, we loaded our car and headed for Utah.
We weren't disappointed. The vistas were spectacular. We'd arrived a little early for vacation season, so it wasn't too crowded yet. Nevertheless, using backpacks, we often hiked away from the main flow of tourists, because hubby wanted pictures that emphasized the sense of isolated beauty. We could carry provisions that let us camp for several days at a time. His pictures were amazing -- he'd always had a good eye for composition, and was a skilled photographer.
I loved it all, and it was as warm as I'd hoped. Actually, a little warmer. I was only wearing a T-shirt, shorts, and hiking boots, and it still got to be sweltering. Grabbing the bottom of my T-shirt and yanking it forward and back rapidly helped somewhat, since it pumped air along my torso. Thank goodness there was a low humidity, so sweat could evaporate. With my hair descending to mid-shoulder blade height, I found I had to pin it up often to let the back of my neck cool.
In one of our longer hikes, we'd reached a reservoir. It was a tiny one, with no roads nearby and parts of its shore screened by thirsty trees.
"Let's go skinny dipping," Jack suggested.
I'd didn't have to be asked or told twice.
Stripping down, I put on flip-flops to protect my feet from possible sharp rocks, and waded in. It was heavenly! The temperature felt just right, and the cool water instantly washed away my sweat.
The rocks underfoot were worn smooth, so I quickly discarded my flip-flops. I'd been in lakes back home, and by comparison, this water was amazingly fresh and clear. Even as we swam and splashed, we didn't raise up clouds of mud or silt, as we would've, back home.
After a while, my husband stood in shallow water near the edge and remarked, "You know, in that pristine water, I can see all of your body -- the parts that are submerged, as well as the parts that are bobbing at the surface. Please stay as you are, while I fetch my camera."
Returning, he started capturing images of me, bobbing and swimming. He got pictures of my front and my back, slightly distorted by the water's ripples. At his bidding, I came over to the shallow water and stood up. He muttered something about 'Venus emerging from the waves' which flattered me immensely. Giving him views of my front, sides, and back, I posed for him at several depths, feeling like a real model.
When we climbed out, and dried off, he begged me to stay naked, now sensing a series of images dealing with isolated beauty of another kind... me, naked in the wilderness. I had a strong streak of exhibitionism, so I didn't mind at all. I was proud of my body. My normally dirty blonde hair was acquiring streaks of a lovely shade of gold from exposure to the sun. Jack told me that the wisps of gold framing my face were turning my normally green eyes into a display of shining shards of emerald. Before the trip, I'd taken the precaution of carefully using a tanning bed to prepare my skin to prevent burning. I was glad that I'd tanned nude, so no glaring tan lines showed on my body in his pictures.
In most of the images I faced at least partially away from the camera, admiring the scenery and vistas around us. Ever practical, when hubby had me scrambling around on the rocks, I did wear tennis shoes -- just tennis shoes. Once in a while, hubby asked me to look over my shoulder at him, which I usually did wearing a naughty or coquettish smile. At other times, he posed me facing him directly, letting me blatantly display myself. We spent more and more of our time naked, although hubby needed to be slathered in sun blocker on certain areas of his anatomy, which I was all too willing to help apply.
He took a beautiful picture of me wading, perched on a rock, twisting and leaning on a nearby rock wall, the morning's golden light illuminating and shadowing my body, displaying my curves to good advantage. Later in the day, he took a side view of me, looking away from the camera, shading my eyes with both upraised hands. This lifted my arms, and raised my breasts. Uplifted in side view, they looked so good that I'd wished I could play with them with hands and mouth like he does.
In a very artistic pose, he had me lying on my side under the sparse shade of the trees. Their leaves made a fantastic pattern on my lower back and ass. All that can be seen in that image is my waist, ass, and thigh. Afternoon light can also be magical, especially with the red rock formations around. In one such picture, I was sitting by the water's edge, my knees up, and leaning forward to swish the water with my hand. The warm reddish afternoon light painted my left side, and the resultant shadowing on my left breast made it look like I had D cups! Magic indeed!
Gradually, the poses grew more erotic, Jack asking me to bend over, to make my 34B tits stand out more (making them appear to be 34C at some angles, which pleased me), or, if he was behind me, to make part of my vulva peek between my thighs. This usually resulted in a picture of my pink slit, showing the smooth inner labia creating a crest of flesh between the outer hairy ones -- quite sexy. His camera was digital, so we got to see the results immediately. This allowed us to retake anything that might be a little blurred, or correct the angle of my body, to let the shadowing enhance the image.
I guess I decided, subconsciously, to see if I could entice my husband out of his role of photographer. Instead of just showing my tits, I cupped them. I caressed them. I let my thumbs stroke back and forth across my nipples until they stuck out like pink pencil erasers. I'd been out in the sun long enough that the dull brown pubic hairs that furred my outer labia were acquiring flecks of gold. For several poses, I teasingly ran my fingers through those soft curls, plucking at the now golden strands, giving the impression of fascination with my sex.
Finally, in one pose I faced away from him, draping myself into a bend over a waist-high rock formation. I spread my legs apart as far as possible, offering him what I was positive was a very lewd look at my cunt and ass. His resultant gasp was clearly audible in the quiet air. I can say with all due modesty that I have thighs that clearly display their musculature, well defined calves and a great ass. After he'd taken a couple of shots, instructing me to make some minor adjustments to my position, I reached back and found my labia with both hands. My fingers parted them, and I felt the sun and wind touching the entrance to my cunt tunnel. I was so turned on, showing myself like this out in the open, that I whimpered, "Get your picture, but then fuck me, dammit!"
Moments later, I felt his shadow block the sun on my body, and I knew he was close behind me. He said nothing, grabbing my hips with both hands as I felt the tip of his cock poking, searching. He was determined to find my hole without using his hands to guide his dick. It took several agonizing moments as he lifted and lowered his pelvis, tilting it to change his angle, that maddening touch of his cock almost at the right spot, then missing as it moved away. His hands pinned my hips motionless, so I couldn't even try to help. I was content to remain as I was, letting him have the pleasure of claiming my hole in this novel manner.
His glans hit the opening perfectly, and with a groan of triumph, he slid his dick inward. I thought he might spear it fast and deep, but apparently he was in no hurry. I was so focused on that cock entering me, slowly stretching and filling my pussy, that I swear that I could feel each millimeter of its entrance. The extra slow penetration actually made it feel like his cock was much much longer that way. When my cunt fully sheathed his meaty sword, I felt the hairs on his scrotum brush my labia, causing me to shiver with that sensation. He pressed forward, and his scrotum itself came to rest on my clit. I moaned a very happy moan.
Maybe it was the warm rock firmly under me. Maybe it was the warm sun on my back, or the breeze washing over my naked skin. Maybe it was the way my husband's hands were grasping me so firmly -- with so much control. Or the lusty intensity of his movements as he began fucking me about as hard as I could ever remember. Whatever it was, it released something primal inside me. I howled as one orgasm after another coursed through my body! My fingernails were scrabbling along the rock as I clawed at it. My bare toes dug into the soil as they curled. Muscles all over my body were bunching up and rippling -- including inside my cunt! Later, my husband told me that it felt like I was jacking him off with my hand!
From the way he was panting, I knew he was close to cumming. Sure enough, with a growling, guttural sound, he emptied himself into me! I felt his dick twitch each time it spewed. And it seemed like there were an awful lot of twitches. My mind was spinning from the sensory overload. I felt him plant his cock deeply, holding it there as a dark wave of unconsciousness claimed me. I actually fainted from pleasure.
When I came to, perhaps a minute later, Jack was still holding me, still inside me, but I could tell his dick was softening. He leaned over and kissed the back of my neck, something I really love, and whispered, "Stay just as you are, please."
I didn't think I could move a muscle at that moment, anyway. I felt like I'd just run a marathon. The rock, the sun, and the breeze still felt wonderful. I may have dozed off, briefly. During this time, my husband's loving contribution to my vaginal tunnel, its copious volume mixing with my own juices, began it's inevitable journey toward the gaping opening left behind when his cock vacated my premises. OK. That's a fancy way of saying his white, sticky semen began drizzling out of my honey pot. And gravity took over.
He was right there to record all this with his camera, kneeling close behind me. The pictures formed sort of a time lapse sequence. The red/pink of my ravished vulva, with the wide open hole displaying shadowy darkness just past its opening. The first appearance of a glob of white, perhaps propelled by some involuntary inner muscle contractions. The glob distorting in shape as it started a slow cascade toward the ground. The semen covering and obscuring my pee hole, and welling up on either side of my still distended clit. The semen starting to form one drip after another -- a white sea with the pink head of my clit appearing to rise out of that sea like an isolated island, but another major glob of cum starting to spill from my dark tunnel. A final shot, in which my clit was nowhere to be seen, completely covered by his cum. Some of the most erotic images of my cunt I'd ever seen.
As you might imagine, our trip became much more hedonistic after that. Taking a position behind me, hubby placed me on my hands and knees, with light pouring between my thighs, emphasizing my sex. (He had to put the camera down, and take me doggy style after recording those images.) We fucked like newlyweds, never seeming to get enough of each other. Pausing for meals and sleep. Swimming to cleanse the sweat from our bodies. Still taking pictures, of course, many with me in them, but some were pure shots of the vistas. Jack had a lot of camera memory cards and batteries. We moved from place to place, but tried to stay near water. We had no idea we were being watched.
The first suspicion that this was so, was also a definite confirmation. We'd strung up a piece of lightweight cloth on four sticks, providing shade that effectively blocked the noonday sun. We were dozing under it when the two men sneaked into our camp. My husband was deeply asleep, so even the ripping sound of duct tape being pulled from its roll just brought him to a state of grogginess. The two strangers had no trouble rolling him onto his stomach, and quickly securing his wrists behind his back.
