Is She Yours? Can I Fuc Her?

"Is that your wife dancing with the cowboy?" the stranger asked. I nodded. "She like sex?" he asked shamelessly. I looked at him and made a face, amazed he would ask me such a question. "Well, I mean, you two share? Just wondering if you swing. You let her run free, have her head? No pun intended," he said, pleased by his own cleverness. "I mean you let her fuck who she wants, right? I see you let her dance with whoever she wants to, so you let her do the horizontal two step?" He laughed at his witticism and put his hands out to the side as if waiting for an answer.

"She is a married mother of two. She is not interested in fucking arrogant assholes who don't know what's beyond the pale," I said, hoping to put him in his place.

"You don't let her decide? You make that decision for her?" he asked. "You think for your wife?"

"No, I don't make her decisions for her. If she wants sex with someone else, that's fine. She'll decide. She just doesn't choose to," I said.

"Well, okay. So you're saying I can ask her, and she can decide to sleep with me if she wants? Right?"

"Yeah, right. But don't put yourself out. She won't," I said.

"Don't be too sure," he said with a unpleasant and mocking smile. "You may be surprised. You wouldn't mind then if I talk to her, right? See if she has any interest?"

"Sure," I said sarcastically, disgusted by him, certain she would toss him on his ear.

"So, after she dances with Tex, I can charm your wife a little and take whatever I can get?"

"Yeah, give it the old college try, but don't say I didn't warn you," I said with distain.

When the music stopped, and she and Brandon were finished dancing, Mr. Wonderful went right over to her and asked her to dance. I was actually surprised she accepted, but I figured it would end with her putting him in his place on no uncertain terms. I watched them dance, and was surprised to see her laughing and smiling so cheerfully, clearly enjoying their conversation.

When the music stopped, they stood talking, then when the next number started they put their hands together again and began to dance once more. Again, she was laughing and enjoying his charm, which I had a hard time believing. For a second time after the music stopped, they stood chatting and she laughed at his jokes, charmed by whatever he was saying, then laid her head on his chest and they started dancing to the third tune.

Once again she chuckled as he talked and delighted her with his wit. When that number stopped, she took him by the hand and walked him to our table. "Dan, this is Charles. He is from Dallas, and he is here for the holidays. He was asking about the wineries around the valley. I was telling him it was a coincidence that I give tours of the wine industries in our area. "He's asked me to show him around the valley. Charley really knows the business," she said cheerfully.

He really knows how to give people the business, I thought. We shook hands, as if we had never had any conversation before. "So, Claire is showing you around the valley?" I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster.

"He's picking me up tomorrow morning at eight," she said enthusiastically. "We'll spend the day touring the wineries. He really wants to learn about our area. He just may decide to invest here," she said cheerfully.

"So, how well do you know this Charley fellow?" I asked when he'd gone.

"Well, he owns thousands of acres in Dallas, and he is so very clever. He really has a great sense of humor," she said, almost bubbling with enthusiasm.

"So, you're spending the day with Charles?" I asked, again with as much sarcasm as I could get away with, but I didn't. She gave me one of those "don't-be-so-cruel looks that every husband dreads. When she finally stopped giving me the evil eye, she went on.

"And maybe dinner tomorrow night," she said slipping out of her dress as she got ready for bed.

"Dinner?" I said. "With Charley?"

"He really is serious about learning as much as he can about the wine business," she said. "He is so interesting. He just knows so much."

I crawled into bed trying not to get into anymore trouble, which had me biting my tongue. "So, where you going for dinner?" I wanted to say, 'This guy is trying to get into your pants, but that was obviously a losing approach.

"Santa Ynez. Charley know the owner and he wants me to taste the veal." I wanted to say, 'He wants to taste your veal," but I resisted and pulled the covers up to my chin.

The next day I was off to work, but I couldn't stop thinking about Claire and Charley, 'Charles', I mean. What a big phony. She didn't get home from "dinner" until 10:30, and I couldn't concentrate on the Lakers, the news of Trump's latest problems, or Dancing With the Stars. Finally, when she came in, she had to tell me about all the people who knew Charley and how everybody liked him and to hear his 'stories.'

By the time we got in bed I had my fill of hearing about Charley and how interesting he was and how much fun he was to be with. I sat in bed with my laptop and soon she says, "Did you know Charley is an award winning photographer?"

"Of course," I said, forgetting myself.

"What is that suppose to mean. He has gotten awards for his photographs and had them in magazines," she informed me with an air of wifely hostility in her voice. "Charley thinks I could be a model," she said with an air of female obstinance.

"Oh, really," I said with far too much skepticism in my voice for my own good.

"You don't think I am pretty enough to be a photographer's model?" she asked indignantly.

"Of course I do," I said, trying to rescue myself. "You are beautiful."

"Well, Charley thinks so. He has offered me a job posing for a magazine shoot," she said with far too much rancor in her voice for me to redeem myself.

"Where,Texas?" I said, being as close to mocking as I'd dare.

"Cancun," she replied soberly.

"Cancun? Really?" I gasped. "Cancun?" I repeated.

"He'll pay the airfare, the hotel fee, and give me a thousand dollars for three days work," she said sounding overjoyed and pleased with herself. How could one argue with a thousand dollars? How could I tell her he had wanted to know if I would let her fuck him? How could even a halfway sensible husband burst her bubble by telling her it was all a ruse to get her into bed, that he was a scumbag who just wanted to have sex with her?

"That sounds great," I said not even able to sound sincere to myself. "On your first professional job? A thousand dollars? Wow." The trick is to sound happy for her, and still not tell her he is a pussy hound out to fuck her and laugh in her husband's face.

She told me she had tickets to fly out of LAX on Saturday and return Wednesday night. Could I have been wrong about old horny Charley? No. "Is this fashion photography, bikini, bedroom, or what? Not nudes?"

"Glamor," she said. "Tasteful, beauty shots," she added. "There could be some partial nudity, but I am no prude. I have been to the nude beach. He asked me that. 'Have you ever been nude in front of people. Well, I have. Nudity is not lewd. I am no prude," she repeated.

"Of course not," I said. "How do you feel about posing nude?"

"Partially nude," she corrected.

"Which part?" I said trying to hide my sarcasm.

"I won't do porn," she said.

"I am glad to hear that," I said. "Does Charley do porn?"

She gave me a "how-could-think-that" look and didn't answer.

She left that Saturday morning with high hopes that I didn't have the nerve to dash. I just hoped she wouldn't end up in a Dallas suburb with me having to go get her and administer mental health repair.

She called in a day, saying that bad weather had eliminated Cancun, but that she was in Corpus Christi, Texas, and they were going to do the shoot on one of the coastal islands in the Gulf. I wondered if it really was porn she had signed up for. How would she handle that? How would she handle finding out Charley was a fraud?

I spent a lot of the time wondering just what was happening in front of the lens in Texas, if there really was a lens, and if Charley tried to talk her into bed, and if he did try, was he successful?

I got texts from her everyday, and she talked like things were going well. On Wednesday, I met her at LAX and she didn't have her characteristic bounce, smile, or cheerful expression. The drive home was pretty silent, which was a bad sign that things on Los Padres Island hadn't gone as swimmingly as they could have.

Finally, just before we pulled into the driveway, it all came out. "Charley did have porn in mind," she revealed in a whisper. "He wanted to be the other person in the shots, and he had a guy there to take the pictures." I asked what she has been doing the last few days, and she said, "Running away from Charley."

I asked if he ever caught up with her, and she looked down but said no. "I was a fool," she said. "He was just a phony trying to get me in bed. At least he spent a lot of money trying, but no, I didn't get in his bed. On the last day I flew to Dallas, then took a plane home today. I feel so stupid, like I fell for one of those phony calls where they rip you off for big bucks," she said looking forlorn and obviously feeling foolish.

This was not the time to tell her he had ask to fuck her, if ever that would be the case. It would most likely be a secret I would keep to my grave. She may be angrier that I didn't say anything and let her go, than she would have been to hear what I thought. I believed it was a classic no-win situation.

I got an idea about how to bring her out of her funk. I decided to encourage her to look into legitimate modeling possibilities and that seemed to cheer her up considerably. The next day we went on-line together and filled out a form, put her name in and posted it. It was an inspiration I was proud of.

A week later we got three hits. One asked for a portfolio and references, one put her on a waiting list, and one asked for a picture or two. I took some shots with my phone, then emailed them to the photographer named Julian Grant.

Friday my phone rang and the caller ID said Grant's Photography. The caller asked for Claire and I put her on. She listened, said yes four times, then nodded and hung up. "He wants to meet at his studio and take some shots to see how I do," she said, the old glow back in her cheeks. I asked if she had thought about how to pose and she shrugged. I suggested we practice with her doing some poses and I would take pictures and see how they looked.

I took nearly fifty photos and we studied them, deciding which ones were more interesting, then I thought of Google, so we wrote in posing for professionals photography and got 2,000 hits. We printed out a few and circled the suggestions that sounded logical. "Avoid straight legs, bend the knees slightly, remember the theory of the thirds," which it explained. It had illustrated examples and reasons for some things to avoid. After a night of studying the sites, the suggestions, we went to bed feeling pretty good about her chances. Like she had hinted at in the beginning: she really is naturally beautiful and I did think she could actually get paid for letting people take pictures of her.

When she met with the photographer I had gone with her and watched as he took close to fifty pictures of her posing in positions he suggested. He seemed impressed. I had asked her the night before if he ask for nudes what she would say. "Well, I did tell Charley I might, and we have been to the nude beach. I liked it, so maybe," she said with a grin.

A week later we got an email that offered her a shoot for a book on nudity. "It would not pay much," the email said, "but it is a start. You'd make five fifty," it explained. Afterwards she confessed she thought he meant five dollars and fifty cents. We had a good laugh about that, then she said, "Five hundred and fifty dollars for an hour. Oh my God. For just standing there."

"Standing there naked," I pointed out.

"Well, yeah, but five hundred dollars," she said jumping in the air.

"Five hundred and fifty dollars," I corrected. We stood looking at one another like we couldn't believe our good luck, like we'd just won the lottery.

"We have Charley to thank for this," she said. "If he hadn't made me think I could do it, we wouldn't be doing this." We hugged and I kissed her, telling her I was proud of her.

I drove her to the studio and we sat for a few minutes in the car gathering ourselves and calming down, deciding we really were going through with it. "Okay, you ready?" I asked. She nodded and got out of the car. The photographer had a female assistant and that helped calm Claire quite a bit. Her name was Sally and she clearly knew her way around cameras.

Julian gave my wife a robe, took her to the changing room, and showed her the setup and explained the book, handed her a sketchbook with the poses they'd be doing.

The assistant was very helpful for Claire, and made her feel quite comfortable being naked. When the shoot was over the photographer, Julian, came out to the car with us and came to the passenger side. Claire rolled down her window.

"You did very well," he said. "I just got an offer today I thought I would tell you about. You seem very comfortable with your body. The offer I got was for some erotic shots for a men's magazine. It is for a lot more money, and it involves two people: a male and female."

"Porn, you mean?" I said.

"We call it eroticism," he replied, " but yes, sexually explicit pictures that Sally and I do regularly. No obligation, but I wanted to give you the chance. It would pay $2,000 for the afternoon," he said. I could see Claire's reaction to that much money.

"Can we call you with an answer after we talk about it?" I asked. He nodded and stepped away from the car door. "We will call you tonight," I said. He nodded and went back into his studio.

"Well, what do you think?" I asked. She shrugged and lifted her hands in an I-don't-know gesture.

"That's a lot of money for just getting sexy for a couple of hours," she said. "What do you think?" she asked. "You be okay with me having sex for money?"

"It's your body," I said. "It's only sex," I joked. "I wouldn't mind. If you're okay, I am okay with it," I said, more relaxed about it than I'd expected to be.

When we got home we ate, didn't talk about it for awhile, then went into the bedroom. "It might be fun," I said. She smiled.

"I guess we could say, 'Let us check out the guy first,'" she said with a sly grin.

"You want John Holmes?" I said.

"Who?"

"Famously big porn star," I said.

"You mean tall?"she asked with a grin.

"No," I said. "Long. Really, really long," I said. She smiled again.

"Yeah, maybe John Whatshisname," she said with a saucy grin.

"Holmes," I said. "Long sound good?" I asked. She just nodded.

"Should we call Julian?" she said. I asked if she wanted to call or should I. She said she would like me to do it.

I picked up my cell and punched in his number, which I had put in contacts. "Julian, this is Dan. Claire would like to do the shoot," I said. "Okay, Thursday," I said and clicked off. "Done," I said. "So, what are you going to do with all that money?"

"Take you to dinner," she said.

We sat in the car again for a few minutes to gather our nerves. "Okay, you can call it off anytime. Let's choose a safe word. If you feel like you aren't comfortable, say the word and we leave. Okay? Let's say it's Butterfly. Say that anytime today and we just go. All right?"

She nodded and we both got out of the car. When we got inside we met the other model. He wasn't John Holmes, but he made me look like a fifth grader in the locker room. His name was Matt, and he was over six feet, with broad shoulders and what used to be called bedroom eyes. He had a dimpled chin and six pack abs, and he was already nude and seemed pretty comfortable with it. He hung loose about seven or eight inches. I was impressed, and so was Claire, obviously.

Julian told Claire to sit with him for a while and get to know Matt. "I will give you a half hour, then we will get started," he told her. Claire and Matt sat at a small table and chatted, him nude and her dressed, asking each other questions about their lives, their backgrounds, and personal things, just getting acquainted. After thirty minutes Julian came and got them, led them to the bed setup and told them where he wanted them to be.

"First we'll do some kissing shots, then some oral, then we'll finish up with some penetration. We have condoms, so don't worry," he said to Claire. I sat behind the camera setup and tried to stay out of the way. Matt and Claire began kissing and it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Because there were cameras, lights, two people moving around, and me, it got pretty clinical.

After the kissing they got into position for oral. She got on her back and opened her legs for him. Sally and Julian moved cameras and lights, getting in just right position, then told them to 'begin.'

Matt moved up to Claire's sex, put his lips to her splayed labia, and began kissing her pussy as the cameras clicked away. She pulled up her knees, closed her eyes, and savored the feel of his mouth. Although the shutter snapped, it was digital and made no noise. Claire was obviously enjoying this part of the shoot and I knew she would have an orgasm if he kept on as he was. Sally was taking shots of Claire's face as Julian took pictures from two cameras on tripods.

When Claire climaxed, she arched her body and tilted her head back. Julian kept saying, "Good. Wonderful. Yeah, like that." He moved one of the tripod cameras in close and focussed on her splayed pussy. He let her catch her breath, then explained where he wanted them for the penetration shots.

They moved into position, like workers on an assembly line. Matt had an erection the entire time, and it bounced in front of him as he got into place to push into her. She spread her knees and lifted her hips, giving him clear access to her sex, getting into the mood of having sex, not just posing. She was obviously wet from his mouth and he slipped in easily with one quick thrust. As he did, a huge sigh emerged from her throat.

Again, Julian kept up a stream of compliments--good, yes, nice, real good, that's right, okay, great--and Claire and Matt fucked away as the cameras clicked silently. I had never watched anyone have sex before, let alone watching my wife being fucked in front of me by another man. It didn't bother me at all to see. It surprised me. I was so caught up in the fact that she was enjoying herself that I only thought of that. She had come on camera from his mouth, now I knew she was about to come again from his very ample cock pushing into her.

She had helped him put on the condom, and when he filled it Claire got an idea and asked for the full condom. She took it from him and held it up, holding it over her chin, then let the cum drip into her mouth, swallowing it all. Julian loved her idea and clicked away enthusiastically. She swallowed the cum from the condom, which she did with me at home when I would come in her mouth. I was surprised she would do it with Matt on camera, but I liked it. Julian liked the idea so much that he offered her a bonus of five hundred dollars for doing it.

"That was a great idea with the condom," I told her as we got in the car. She put her hand out and I took it, gave it a squeeze, and blew her a kiss.

"You didn't mind that?" she asked.

"Julian loved it," I said. "Yeah, it was hot. What made you think of that?" I said.

"It was in one of your old porn videos," she said with a grin. "I just got inspired," she said. "I remembered it when I saw the full condom."

"Sally seemed to love it. She must have taken fifty pictures of you with that full condom and the cum dripping into your mouth."