First Photos

My husband, Dave has loved photography for years, well before we met. He has boxes and albums full of photos of sunsets, water towers, courthouses, and other public buildings. And we're acquiring more from our travels and family events. He did photography for his high school newspaper, where he also learned to do black and white photo developing. Later in graduate school he worked part-time in a "one-hour" photo lab processing color prints. Over the years, he's gotten to be a pretty good amateur photographer and has taken numerous classes to improve his skills now approaching "semi-pro" status.

For one of the first Christmases after we were married, Dave gave me some sexy black lingerie, including a bra, panties, garter belt and stockings. I reluctantly had to admit they were beautiful and classy, not sleazy by any means. He, of course immediately encouraged me to try them on, model them for him, and be sure they fit. I wanted to honor his special gift, for sure, but I also wanted to see if wearing these items would help me confront, if not overcome my own self-effacing, and often self-demeaning body image. I've mostly worn basic utilitarian bras and panties, that Dave has teasingly described as my "orthopedic" underwear. While I probably hadn't worn stockings and garters since early high school, I did know that Susan Sarandon in the movie "Bull Durham" had revived their popularity and more importantly their sex appeal and marketability among some women. But to be honest, I probably wouldn't have numbered myself among them.

I took my new gifts and went to our bedroom to try them on and was surprised with how comfortable the bra was. One of my main complaints with sexier lingerie is that it's usually very un-comfortable. The panties definitely provided less coverage than my more traditional styles, but thankfully they didn't seem to immediately invade my butt-crack or create an instant camel-toe up-front. And after fumbling for but a few seconds, I found I actually did remember how to adroitly attach garters to stockings.

With everything now in place, I looked in our full-length mirror, and thought to myself, Dave may believe this stuff will flatter me, but I'm even more convinced that I surely will not be flattering it. So, I covered up with my best satin robe and hesitated before I dared to return to our family room. As a last thought I put on my rarely worn, but sexiest strappy heels to complete the look and maybe make me feel just a bit less naked, yet more alluring.

I was startled when I saw Dave had gotten out his Nikon 35 mm SLR camera and suggested I pose for just a few shots in my new, sexy lingerie. I'd never been seriously photographed in my underwear, and never posed for sensuous pictures, so I was feeling somewhat hesitant to display my body's many imperfections and shortcomings. It's not that I'm a prude about nudity with Dave, it's just that I was more than a little insecure and distrustful about who might see these photos when I'm less than fully clothed. And who knew how far Dave would want to take this photo opportunity.

While this was in the waning days of film cameras, I knew from Dave's previous experience that men in the photo labs would certainly see them and occasionally make copies for their own prurient interest and show them to who knows who. I could also imagine some bored store clerk curiously shuffling through the photo envelopes hoping to find a picture of one of their customers less than fully clothed, hoping it to be someone they knew or recognized. I could just imagine what a high school kid would do with those in the backroom.

"Oh, Dave put that camera away," I groused, "I'm not posing for any X-rated pictures."

"Lingerie shots are hardly X-rated," he said gently, "you know you show more skin at the beach."

"Well, this isn't the beach, and I wouldn't want just anyone else seeing me in these things," I said hoping we'd end this conversation.

"Just take off the robe and let's have a glass of wine and let me savor your lovely body," he offered, trying to work some flattery on me. He'd started a nice romantic fire so I couldn't claim it was too cold to be in just my underwear. So, I compromised by opening the robe wide in front, but keeping it draped around my back and shoulders as he went for the wine and glasses. To my surprise exposing my legs in stockings and garters did make me feel a bit evocative and daring.

Dave poured the wine and much to my surprise and maybe even a little disappointment, he didn't object when he saw I hadn't completely removed the robe. His not coaxing me to show more must have bruised my newly evolving yet still very fragile body-ego. It stung just enough that I found myself crossing my legs enticingly to show off the tops of my black stockings and the pale bare skin leading to my abbreviated panties. This blatant temptation now seemed to pique his interest, so to ensure his undivided attention I slipped my extended foot out of my shoe and dangled it teasingly on my toes before him. This was totally unexpected behavior for me, and I had to admit this lingerie had unlocked a wickedly playful alter-ego within me.

After a finishing our glasses and listening to the sweet and admiring comments from Dave I went for another bottle of wine. The combination of the wine, the fire, and my growing arousal had brought me to the point where I didn't need my robe for either warmth or modesty. Returning without it, I found he had readied the camera and asked me to stop and hold the bottle suggestively in front of me for an impromptu photo. While I could have recited any number of objections, I just struck some increasingly provocative poses for several more photos before I filled our glasses and sat down again.

"Those will be spectacular pictures," he said to me. "Now hold your glass like we're toasting this wonderful night," he added as he took another few shots. That led to several other progressively risqué poses in the chair. Then he asked me to stand in front of the fireplace for some standing shots. I reluctantly must admit, I was getting a little excited by posing in this lovely lingerie. I was feeling free and having fun.

I wasn't giving much, if any consideration to how well these pictures would turn out, or if someone else might see them, since I knew I could always shred or burn them, or not even have the film processed in the first place. Just feeling sexy and less inhibited made posing its own reward.

With those caveats in mind, I didn't object when Dave asked me to turn my back to him, look mischievously over my shoulder and unhook my bra. That led to sliding the straps down to my elbows, then turning to face him again with the cups falling victims of gravity. I was now getting into this game, feeling my excitement grow as I exposed my bare breasts to the camera. With the bra gone, I struck some inviting topless poses. While I've always felt my breasts were too small, Dave told me again they're my sexiest asset, and second to none as he took many pictures including close-ups and profiles to feature my fully aroused nipples.

While it's not the proverbial bear-skin rug, we do have a plush throw in front of the hearth. I sat with my knees raised and my arms extended while holding my knees. This position produced some great leg shots with my right breast playfully exposed beneath my arm. The rug framed my body beautifully.

I thought these were exceptionally sultry poses and I was finding photography to be a new and playful way for us to expand our sensual repertoire. Dave asked me to take off my shoes and slowly peel the nylons off each leg as he captured each step on film. I then slid my panties off and once naked I repeated the earlier pose with my legs bent while again holding my knees. I knew Dave was photographing from a low angle to capture both my exposed breast and a subtle peek of my pussy below my knees. While I'd enjoyed being naked with Dave in countless situations, his now capturing my fully nude body on film brought me conflicting feelings of both starkly exposed vulnerability, and brazenly offered exhibitionism.

Dave changed to a 2nd roll of film and added a soft-focus filter as I posed both kneeling and standing naked in front of the fireplace in what I'd describe as classic nude poses. I could feel I was gaining confidence and comfort in these postures, and for the first time I found myself looking forward to seeing the photos. We moved on to experiment with some more bold and suggestive poses lying on the rug, both on my back and on my tummy. My favorite pose was with me backside-up, raising my torso with my arms crossed in front of me, and my knees bent, and my ankles crossed above. This allowed my breasts to project forward and look more provocative and shapelier, with my nipples visible and very pointed. This also accentuated the curves and cleft of my bottom. This was a photo I would absolutely look forward to seeing. I now knew I could get into nude photography as a form of art.

After Dave paused a 3rd time to change the film, I rolled on to my back and Dave had me put my hands first above and then under my head while he shot some close ups where my tits were splayed to offer a pronounced view of my extended nipples. This pose too heightened my excitement and interest in the ensuing pictures. He stood over me and shot some full-torso shots and I'm pretty sure some close-ups of my snatch. This got me aroused enough that when he asked me to keep my hands under my head and raise and spread my knees I complied enthusiastically. He had me reposition my legs several times to change the angle and extent of intimate exposure. For my last photo, Dave had me pose, still on my back with my knees flat and spread very wide, the soles of my feet pressed together to display all my anatomical details. The thought of the camera capturing every detail of my female parts brought me first to the brink of climax, followed closely by the fear that my most intimate exposure could also be used to humiliate or exploit me. I knew at some point after tonight I'd need to reconcile these feelings.

For the 4th and final roll of film, he asked me to again put on my robe and sit in the chair. I think we were both wanting to dial-down the intensity of the photo session. I coyly let the robe open for some peek-a-boo views of my breasts. He next draped the bottom hem of my robe just over my knees and positioned my bare feet on the edge of the chair and maybe 18-20 inches apart. Shooting from a low angle, he caught a seemingly stolen glimpse of my unwittingly exposed pussy, while I offered a flirtatious and knowing smile. While this picture would exhibit my pussy, it was subtle yet playful enough to pique my sensual interest. I was having fun, and this was a good pose to end on.

I took the time-out to sort through my colliding emotions over being photographed naked, including in some increasingly immodest poses. I had pretty much convinced myself the lingerie, topless and classic nude poses were fun, as well as artistically and sensually appealing enough that I'd like to have the photos printed.

Dave's asking me to spread my legs widely turned out to be incredibly arousing. While just posing for these photos felt like a new and intense form of foreplay begging to be satisfied, I later shuddered at the prospect of anyone but Dave and me seeing them, even some anonymous guy in a faraway photo lab.

We finished our bottle of wine and treated ourselves to some of the best sex we'd had in a long while. Photography as foreplay was not just a casual metaphor.

In the morning, I found the four rolls of film and kept them in the same order I assumed they'd been taken. Roll 1, was the fun shots with me in the robe and lingerie; roll 2, the artistic, classic nude poses; roll, 3 the revealing intimate shots; and roll 4, in my robe again for the fun "cool-down" final frames. After breakfast we took our coffee out to our deck. I brought the film canisters with me with pieces of tape attached numbering them as they were taken.

"Where are you planning to have these developed? I asked as matter-of-factly as I could. I probably should have first asked if we were going to process them at all, after having slept restlessly with these two questions churning in my mind.

"We could take them to Walgreen's and have them sent out," Dave proposed, with "sent out" meaning to their out-of-town lab, vs. their 1-hour in-store processing. I'm sure he figured this anonymity would add a lot to my comfort level.

"You told me how the clerks at the place you used to work went through them," I pointed out, "and we shop at this store enough that quite a few of the staff know us by sight if not even by name. Isn't there a lab we could just mail them to? Hopefully somewhere out-of-state?"

"Let me do some checking, I don't want you to worry about this, but I'd sure like to see these pictures," he replied.

"I think I'm OK with all except the 3rd roll with the wide-open shots," I offered, "but a mail order lab would still be best. Let's just wait on that explicit roll for now."

A few days later, Dave came home with a film mailer for a lab in Syracuse, New York, halfway across the country. He got it from a friend at work who'd used them for some revealing photos of his wife. The lab apparently advertised in swingers' magazines and other adult periodicals and offered to print anything that was "legal." Dave assumed that meant everyone was clearly over 18, no animals, and nothing else that was too kinky.

"This place sounds a little questionable," I said, cautiously. "Do you think they keep copies or sell their customers' photos on the side, maybe even in foreign countries?"

"Mike said they've used them for a few years now, and never had a problem," he replied a little defensively. "I guess keeping copies could happen, but I don't think ours would draw much attention in a place specializing in 'adult' pictures. And I doubt they'd want the legal liability of selling photos or posting them online." I would never have expected Mike's wife, Diane to even pose for nude photos, so her comfort with this lab gave me some confidence in their discretion.

I thought about what Dave said, and it did kind of make sense to me. "How about we just send the first roll of me in the robe and lingerie and see how it goes," I offered, wanting to keep him happy, but as much to satisfy my curiosity of how I looked in the safer, less revealing poses. That worked for him too and he packaged to film to mail the next morning.

One evening, a week or so later I got home early and found the envelope of photos in the mail. While I knew I should wait until Dave was home to open them, part of me wanted to see them immediately and have the chance to self-censor any pictures I didn't like. No one wants to share unflattering photos, like with eyes closed, a goofy smile, or other technical flaws; plus, even these milder poses had some degree of sexual vulnerability for me. After rethinking, I reluctantly decided to wait for Dave.

When he got home, I showed him the envelope from the photo lab, and we took a bottle of wine to our family room. He told me I had honors on opening them, and I quickly tried to shuffle through the stack to see if any needed my immediate censorship, while appearing to just organize them for us to look at. The best I could do was to see they were of excellent color and resolution on good quality paper. We'd have to look through them one-by-one to pass any additional judgement.

The first photo was me coming into the room with the wine bottle and no robe. I liked the unposed look and the coy smile on my face; and the lingerie was definitely flattering.

The poses sitting in the chair grew progressively suggestive by my dropping my bra straps off my shoulders and repositioning my legs to reveal more. When I came to the first standing pose with me unhooking my bra, I realized I'd forgotten what all was on this roll. The next 20 photos were a mix of full-length, waist-up and close-ups of me topless. In the closer shots you could see that not only were my nipples more erect, but I swear my entire breasts had gotten fuller and firmer. I couldn't think of a time I'd looked and felt more aroused.

The final poses were the series with me sitting, legs bent, with my arms extended to hold my knees. This had allowed Dave to capture a seemingly stollen look at both my right breast exposed beneath that arm, and my panties below my legs. This progressed to me to playfully remove my shoes, stockings, and panties, with each step caught on film, and ending with 4 or 5 shots of me nude to end the roll.

I honestly had thought all of the pictures on this roll were going to be lingerie poses, and I'd just be dipping my toe into the erotic photo waters. Obviously, I'd exposed a lot more than a toe. The more I looked at the photos, the more I not only liked them, but the more I liked me and my body.

Along with the photos, we received another mailer. Wanting to take advantage of this sexually charged moment, Dave asked if we should go ahead and send in the other three rolls. Having lost my nude photo virginity, I couldn't come up with any persuasive excuses not to send them. Plus, that wicked alter-ego overtaking me wanted confirmation that she looked just as sexy as she felt while posing. We sent the 2nd and 4th rolls, but I still had some hesitation about the 3rd and explicit photo set.

A week later we were ready for another photo debut. The classic nude poses were phenomenally flattering, and the soft focus muted any blemishes I'd imagined and enhanced the sensuality of the images. Dave's growing skills and knowledge of the art of vintage photography was proudly on display. The woman displayed in these photos was so much more beautiful and alluring than I had ever envisioned myself. I marveled at my image as if I were looking through the eyes of a first-time, third-party observer. I was astounded to find myself thinking that under the right circumstances, I might be proud, if not also excited to show these aesthetic and alluring pictures to some of our closest friends.

The final roll we'd taken were fun, playful and teasing poses that would entice anyone seeing them to want to see more. With these thoughts capturing my mind, I agreed we could send off the 3rd roll, and have it printed. Dave wasted no time mailing that film, before I could revive the previous reservations I'd had.

In the time we waited to receive our photos, I did have visions of guys in the photo lab seeing and sharing these pictures of my most private parts. The thought of them misusing my photos to satisfy themselves in the back room or restroom was a source of mixed emotions. I struggled to balance my feelings of being sexually exploited with those of being seen as sexually attractive, desirable, and seductive to any number of anonymous admirers. I ended up being pragmatic and concluding their taking advantage of this situation was simply part of the price we'd pay for wanting to have these pictures.

Knowing I could destroy the photos gave me a sense of protection from any further unwanted invasions of my privacy. In my middle-of-the-night thinking these included children or guests finding the photos, a home burglar stealing them, or our untimely deaths bequeathing them to our families. While Dave explained the safeguards we could take and the low odds for such events occurring, my fears were nonetheless real with the consequences being beyond merely embarrassing.

When the photos arrived, I considered shredding them and claiming they must have been lost in the mail or too risqué to print. But my new alter-ego captor insisted I see them and let Dave weigh-in on their future too. I knew I needed some wine for this unveiling as I repeated my concerns again only to hear Dave's stock replies.