"Squeeze those big tits darling."
"Pinch your nipples, pull them, hard."
"Sit on the edge of the bed, open your legs and push your tits together.
"Stand up and take your panties off."
"No leave them half way down your thighs, no push them to just below your knees."
He was issuing a series of commands with which I willingly complied.
"Sit on the edge of the bed."
"Open your legs."
"Show me your cunt."
"Lay back, lift your legs up and open them wide."
"Let me photograph your wet juicy cunt."
This was how it went when Erik and I had a photo session. We had been doing this for a few years now. It helped spice up our sex life for we never finished a session without having a glorious fuck. Recently, though, it was not so much part of our sex life, but was becoming our sex life. I was beginning to suspect that my husband could well be unable to make love to me without the stimulus of photographing me.
I had become used to gradually undressing as he took photos of me flaunting myself at him and the camera in my underwear, topless and sometimes bottomless, but clothed above the waist. I had accepted being photographed in just my bra, just my panties and just my holdups; of posing in sexy underwear, basques, waspies and half cup bras that I enjoyed buying both on the net and from shops. I had got used to lying in bed with him as shots of me in the outlandish poses came up on the huge plasma TV on the wall at the end of our bed. I was becoming accustomed to: being naked, of being shot from all angles and later seeing pictures of my tits my nipples, my bum and my pussy. I was now comfortable with Erik taking shots of me as I started to masturbate with close ups of my fingers inside the hood pressing on my clit. And of course I had become particularly accustomed to fucking myself with my fingers or my vibrator as he digitally recorded it for our later exciting viewing.
Although hugely embarrassed at first after a while I began to look forward to our sessions. And that was not just because I knew I would be quite royally fucked at the end of it, but also because I enjoyed flaunting myself at the camera. My husband had unwittingly uncovered a streak of exhibitionism in me that neither of us knew existed.
Our marriage, however was going tits up.
We are both Danish and that gives us a vastly different perspective on sex than most other races other than our fellow Scandinavians and perhaps the Dutch and northern Germans. We have a far more open attitude towards sexual expression than other nationalities and our concept of being faithful is nothing like that found in much of Europe the UK and the USA. We see nothing wrong in having sexual partners other than our husband or wife, we do not consider it vulgar for couples to go to sex clubs and watch others having sex or joining in group sessions. Friends often swap partners and threesomes both two women and a man and two men with a woman are fairly commonplace. Hence what Erik and I did, largely behind closed doors was not that unusual. Maybe showing my photos to friends was a little different, but as they, I and Erik enjoyed it what the hell?
We had been married for over twenty years. Erik was a property developer and ran a business largely involved with building houses in Spain. The crash made him go bankrupt. At the same time my career in advertising was booming and I was invited to become Head of Copy for the UK for the global ad agency that employed me. That meant moving to London. Erik didn't want me to go and wouldn't come with me when I said that I was taking the job. We rowed endlessly about it and our sex life deteriorated rapidly until it hardly existed other than the photo sessions. Despite his protests I moved to London and we separated. It was reasonably amicable and once or month or so I would go back to Copenhagen and he and I would do what married couples are supposed to do, fuck like rabbits for a while and then have a row.
Although our Danish upbringing and conditioning enabled us to have other partners they were supposed to be in situations of trust; that was critical to our relationship beliefs. Having affairs with the other not knowing about them was outside that trust and was frowned upon. So in London alone I was continually frustrated. I wanted and needed more sex and I knew that if I didn't get it I would end up having an affair and that wouldn't be fair or reasonable.
Fuck what a shambles I would think usually when I was entertaining clients or away in New York and clients or business colleagues came on strong towards me. I also had time on my hands and at home after being in the agency until around eight I took to messing around on yahoo messenger or writing erotic stories for Literotica. These and exchanging correspondence with mainly male, but the occasional female reader of my Lit stories became my sex life, well excuse for it. Masturbation, either when I was composing an erotic story or, when chatting to a man on messenger and sometimes watching him naked and erect on his cam, became my main sexual outlet. I and my life were in a mess and I couldn't see a way out. By the double standards of both my Danish upbringing and my UK and US experiences I could not do as many in those countries do and that is take a fuckbuddy. Although that is usually mostly about sex, it becomes almost inevitable that there will be some emotional involvement; that I couldn't let happen.
I was on yahoo late one evening phone chatting and camming with an American guy who lived in Aberdeen. I had got to know him quite well. We were both wearing the typical late night chat gear; he was in boxers and me a red, silk robe. I had told him of my dilemma in previous chats and some emails we exchanged; we had become quite close. We were talking about films and film stars and I told him that I thought that Catherine Deneuve was one of the most beautiful and sexy actresses. That led us onto talking about her films and I agreed that the scene in The Hunger where she seduces Susan Sarandon was one of the most erotic lesbian scenes that it would be possible to create. That elicited the inevitable.
"Are you bi then Michy?"
"I don't know, but I find beautiful bodies whether they are male or female very attractive."
"Do you find them sexy?"
"Yes I do and I find seeing beautiful people making love very sexy, well erotic I suppose."
"I know what you mean" he replied the cam showing the effect it was having on his boxers.
"Have you seen Belle de Jour?" I asked him.
"Is that where CD becomes hooker in a brothel in the afternoons?"
"Yes it is."
"Why do you ask?" He said resting his hand lightly on his groin.
I laughed and held the tie of my robe. "Maybe that's what I should do."
"What become a hooker?"
"Well it would get me the sex without having an affair."
"That's a bit extreme Michy" he said, adding. "You know what this is doing to me don't you?"
"I can see" I replied pulling gently on the tie and saying softly. "Yes Mike?"
"Please Michy" he replied lifting his bum off the bed and pushing his shorts down. He was beautifully hard.
I pulled the tie and my robe fell open. I was naked underneath.
*
As was usual the first thing I did the next morning when I got up around eight was to check my emails. I live in a lovely apartment in the Docklands area just to the east of London. The agency is in Covent Garden, but at least two mornings a week I work from home. These are usually when I have been entertaining the previous evening.
I always sleep naked and on those working from home mornings I don't shower and dress until late morning doing what I need to do in the buff and that includes writing for Lit. I like doing that, just as I will sunbathe in the nude on my fairly, but not completely secluded balcony overlooking the Thames.
There was a mail in my yahoo inbox. It was from Mike the guy I had been chatting to and with whom I had masturbated the previous evening, which was something that was becoming ever more frequent recently.
The mail read.
