I
I worked with "Don", or should I put it I worked at the same company as he did. We didn't actually work together, just that from time to time our jobs merged.
We both had an interest in photography, he professionally and me as an amateur. (primarily nudes of my soon to be wife, Susan)
Every once in a while I would look him up and ask questions about cameras or developing techniques (I had a simple but effective darkroom set up) Somehow the conversation came up if I had ever taken nudes of my fiancé who he had yet to see. I told him I had, but wasn't ready to show them to anyone yet. He didn't push the matter, just from time to time steered the conversation in that direction. He would mention that he had over the course of his work had the opportunity to photograph a number of women completely nude, and I might even know one or two of them. He said he had to be very discreet as not to let some of their names or images get out.
When he finally met my fiancé I could tell he was smitten, as most were when meeting her. On top of having a killer body, she was blessed with a personally that made everyone think that she was interested only in them. She never met a stranger, and after only a few minutes she would be laughing and touching them on the arm or hand to give the impression of more intimate feelings. This was just natural for her.
Don couldn't take his eyes off her. Susan usually dresses with style, but in a way that oozed sexuality without being slutty. It could be seen that she had a magnificent set of breasts, 38 large C's, long strong legs, and hips that were designed to move suggestively. Her eyes are cobalt blue and would sparkle when she laughs, or drill straight through you if you make her mad. Her mouth has a smile all the time and lips that are for kissing, her tongue, flicks out to moisten her lips with an involuntary movement. But the thing that captured all the attention was her hair, long brunette hair that fell to below her waist. Straight and shiny, it seemed to have a life of its own, flowing over her shoulders and cascading down her back. When men saw it, I could tell they wanted to see her hair as her only covering.
The pressure from Don went up a notch after he met her. He somehow was able to find a way to come around when she would come visit me from college. She was 2 years behind me and attended a university some 50 miles from where I lived. They hit it off and we all became the best of friends, sharing many good meals (she can cook like a 5 star chief) and lots of wine. It was not unusual for Don to crash in our spare bedroom when it was unsafe for him to be behind the wheel. She would delight in reminding him that we would be in the next room screwing like rabbits while he just played with himself. Her laughter was contagious.
A typical evening would be a few before dinner drinks, fun conversation, laughter, light sexual teasing from each of us. She would be the mistress of the kitchen, occasionally requiring a little gladly given assistance. In the close confines of the kitchen, contact, front to back and front-to-front was part of the play and was not discouraged. No out and out grabbing, but subtle touches even with spontaneous kisses on the cheek or back of the neck. To the three of us it was a dance of seduction played out in unhurried motion.
Dinner, more wine, dessert, retiring to the living room to over stuffed chairs and couch, after dinner Grand Mariner, soft music, dim lights, we would take turns dancing with her or watch her as she moved slowly to the music by herself eyes closed, in the middle of the room.
A few buttons would be undone, a little, or sometimes a lot of cleavage could be exposed, she would excuse herself and come back sans bra evident by the swaying of her breasts and the hard nipples protruding beneath the silky blouse. When she would lean over to take our hands to pull us up to dance, there would be a sometimes brief, sometimes extended flash of full breast, and in the semi darkness the hint of a nipple.
Usually, when the sexual tension could rise no higher, Susan would demurely tell us that it was time to bed, her and me to ours, and Don who had had too much to drink to be safe, to his solitary one.
Often she would leave the room to change to her bedclothes and Don and I would remain to finish our last drink. After an extended silence he would sigh and tell me how lucky I was (as if I didn't already know) to have such an incredibly beautiful woman and how much he would love to see her nude and make love to her. He would also say how much he valued our friendship and would never betray our trust in him.
She would usually come back for us dressed in a long silky low cut, but not sheer gown, bare beneath, evident from the outline of her body as the material clung to her swaying breasts and the outline of her rear.
Susan would guide Don to his turned down bed, turn him around, unbutton his shirt, kiss his chest between his nipples and then kiss him tenderly on the lips, say goodnight, and leave the room.
We would retire to our room, she would slowly strip me, kissing my body as she removed each piece of clothing, then drop her gown to the floor, stand before me naked and we would lock in a silent embrace as we kissed and moved to the bed.
II
This play of passion repeated itself over a couple of years, sometimes once a month, sometimes two or three, sometimes two or three months would pass between occurrences. It was not planned, it just happened. We all enjoyed the game. There was never any complaint from Don as to the fact that things never progressed farther, a glimpse of breast and nipple, the soft touch of Susan's body through the gown, the tender kiss goodnight. The boundaries seemed to be set, no one dared to cross until the time seemed right.
That time came one early winter night, the snow; the first real accumulation of the season fell in the quiet windless night. Heavy wet flakes drifted clumped together to the ground so softly that they didn't pack together, but lie atop each other like cotton candy. The temperature was only slightly below freezing, the full blast of icy cold was still weeks away.
Susan was like a child, I could hardly keep her inside, she wanted to dance around in the falling snow, arms outstretched, face turned upward, open mouth trying to catch each puffy clump of frozen moisture. She flatly refused to wear a coat or for that matter any winter covering. She danced and feasted with bare arms in a silky blouse, light pants, and light tennis shoes, no socks.
Finally giving in to my threats of physically dragging her in to the warmth of the fireplace, she sulked in, head down, dragging her feet like a reprimanded child. Her act did not last long though, as soon as she reached the door, she looked up and her pure delight shown on her rosy face.
The dinner was set and consumed as usual, slightly more wine was consumed, warmed snifters of Grand Marnier were passed, soft music played as we three watched the snow fall silently outside the picture window. Multicolored floodlights lit the back yard casting dancing shadows as the snow fell deeper and deeper.
Susan excused herself as usual; the time for freeing her breasts had arrived. When she returned, instead of the usual long gown, she wore a silk nightshirt that buttoned up the front and fell to only mid thigh She appeared to have nothing underneath. She was barefoot, and walked silently into the room.
"I want to dance again." No argument from the two of us. "Come with me, watch me."
III
With that she rushes outside, dashing bare foot, bare legged, into the nearly foot of fresh snow. Spinning and reaching upward she danced to a tune that was playing in her head. The reaching showed that she was not completely bare bottomed, but wore the tiniest of bikini panties. (thongs had not become the rage yet) They barely covered her front, her pubic mound evident as the shirt opened at the bottom from her antics. Her cheeks were even less covered as the material wedged upward as she jumped and slid in the slippery back yard. Her firm butt cheeks were on display.
All the movement caused the buttons in the front to unclasp from their buttonholes, upward from the bottom and downward from the top, until only one held the shirt together directly in the center between her ample free swinging breasts.
Completely uncaring how much she was showing, the joy of the moment made her spin and turn dipping to scoop up snow and toss it in the air again and again.
I was spellbound, shocked more by her nakedness in the snow than by her nakedness in front of Don and me. I felt the excited stirring inside my groin as her body became more exposed to our sight. The idea of her dancing like a nymph caused me to hope for more to show. I wanted her to expose more, willing with my mind for the buttons to release the final hold on her shirt. I wanted more than anything for her to dance in her nakedness in front of our friend Don.
As if commanded, the final button released and her shirt flew open, exposing both of her exquisite breasts in all their excited beauty. Her nipples hardened by the cold and by her excitement protruded from her breasts like brown erasers. Her breasts freely swung and bounced from her exertions. Her womanhood rejoiced with unbridled naked exposure and freedom.
She reached for the sides of her shirt and rather than cover her nakedness, she pulled the shirt from her shoulders and threw it at us with a squeal. Now all that my beautiful woman had between herself and total nudity was the briefest of panties, they being wet from all the melting snow began to turn transparent.
Finally, the cold and the exertion taking a toll, in a last defiance of her dress and the weather, she flung herself to the ground on her back and spread her legs while flapping her arms to make a naked snow angel.
Thoroughly satisfied she jumped up, grabbed her wet shirt, and rushed past us back into the warmth of the house. We followed silent and dumbfounded from the exhibition.
IV
We found her still topless standing by the fireplace, water dripping of her as she turned around and around warming her now beet red body.
"Don't just stand there with your mouth open, get me a towel."
I did as she bid, leaving her nearly naked in front of my friend.
"You, (Don) come here and help me I'm freezing. Rub my arms and legs. And shut your mouth, you'll catch a fly, even in this weather. Haven't you ever seen a half-naked woman before? That was so much fun; you two should have joined me." She was still beaming.
