I'm Mark, and I'm a photographer. That's not my job, it's more of an all-consuming hobby. It began with birds, while I was in college, and when I fell in love my girlfriend became the object of many a photo. I have some skill, so she always looked pretty in all of the photos, and this made her a willing subject. Of course, girlfriends are not forever, and when we broke up, eventually I got a new girlfriend. I took pictures of her, too.
I ended up taking pictures of all my girlfriends. At some point, usually after a good long while, I would pressure my girlfriends into posing nude, promising them the pictures were just for me. I kept my promises, too. I now have a secret folder on my computer with a nude picture of every girlfriend I have ever had since after high school graduation. I should point out that the photos are always tasteful. No way they could be mistaken for porn, unless you are a super prude. It's fun. I recommend it, as long as the woman is willing, and most are, in my limited experience, as long as one is their boyfriend. The women have to trust you, and you have to earn their trust.
As I got older and one relationship would end, it would be followed by another, and another, and another, until finally I met a woman so special that she is now my wife. It's ironic, but I have no nude pictures of my wife. She's the only woman I have laid for whom I have no nude picture.
My photography habit reached a new level however, when my wife Sally and I had our first child, a bouncing baby girl. Sally used to joke that our daughter had a very well chronicled infancy. My wife too remained well documented, and I began to take more and more erotic pictures of her. It began with some photos of her breast feeding our daughter, and progressed to my being allowed to take a photo of her while she was lying in bed, topless, having just finished breast feeding. My wife was shy, however, and her boobs were as far as she would let me go with the photos.
Sally's boobs grew with the baby. I thought it was just from all the milk production, but they stayed nice and large even after our daughter was weaned. No complaints from me, I can tell you that! By this time, I had a wonderful collection of photos both of our daughter Hazel, and my wife Sally, our home, our yard, butterflies, and countless photos of the birds of North America. I was now moving on to the flora and especially the trees of our large and expansive country. I had a wonderful collection of photos of Sally's boobs, too. I love my wife's boobs.
One day at work a group of us got to talking about our hobbies, and as it turned out, one of my colleagues also liked to take pictures. More discussion led to us admitting to each other that we all loved especially taking pictures of our children, at least those of us who had children already, and of our wives.
We were in the habit of going out for a beer after work on Fridays, and one time, in the bar, we began to show pictures of our wives to each other. We of course showed the pictures we were proud of, the ones that made our wives look the prettiest. I had one of my wife on a fall day in a flowing dress with a full skirt, where the wind was moving it around. She looked like a Flamenco dancer, right there on the upper west side, on the sidewalk in New York. Her hair framed her face perfectly, and she wore a halogen smile. That day we had visited the Natural History Museum and the neighborhood full of greenery around the museum is a setting that is Nirvana for photographers.
Bob had an equally wonderful picture of his wife Rachel, and while the pictures taken by the others in our group ranged from bad to mediocre as photos, the wives all looked pretty and happy, at least to my eyes, and that's what counts, right? We agreed to show more pictures the next week. Bob's wife Rachel, however, stood out. She is intrinsically a very pretty woman.
By agreement, the third time we were showing photos of our wives was swimsuit week. I showed the men a nice picture of Sally in a pretty one piece, where the sun fell on her hair in a manner that (for me, at least) recalled Rembrandt in the use of light. Bob had a pretty picture of his wife Rachel at Coney Island, but Sam surprised everyone with a photo of his wife in a hyper sexy bikini. Sam's wife Heather has a dynamite body, and her bikini did not allow for doubters.
After Sam's picture, we decided the next week we would share sexy pictures of our wives. They were all dressed correctly, but often they were in suggestive poses, or - for example - in the case of Sally, she was wearing a low-cut blouse with a push-up bra, revealing almost all of her breasts save her nipples.
Sam went the furthest. His wife Heather was topless in the photo, but with her back to the camera. You could see the edges of her boobs, sticking out even though we were looking at her backside. Heather's head was turned, and she was eating a banana. The camera caught the suggestiveness of her action perfectly, since her eyes were filled with sexual intent. That's hard to capture in a photo. I was impressed.
Sally wanted to know why I was such an animal in bed when I came home that night, and I confessed to her what we were doing. "What's it to be next week?" Sally asked.
I hemmed and hawed. "Oh Mike, you're not going to show each other topless pictures of us wives, are you? You were planning to ask me first, right?"
"Of course," I immediately and smoothly lied. Sally smiled. She knew I was lying.
"I get veto power, right?" Sally announced. I was surprised. I thought she would scream at me, have a temper tantrum, and disallow it. She might even have forbidden me to continue with the after-work beers. But instead she seemed okay with it. Well, life is full of surprises, even good surprises, sometimes.
I began to realize that perhaps my wife Sally was proud of her body, and while she was too uptight to expose herself, she did not mind getting vicarious pleasure if I showed off pictures of her charms to my friends. I guess it gave her some deniability. I was surprised by her attitude, but again, my surprise was a pleasant one.
We decided to have a photo session the very next day, and Sally posed topless for me around the house, and even in the backyard. I could tell she was getting aroused, and after a couple dozen pictures, we had a wonderful time in bed. Sally even let me take her doggy style, which she rarely does. Moreover, it was her idea to do it doggy style! I did not know what was happening, but I liked it. Her pussy was so wet! It was like entering a cocoon of velvet when I slipped inside her.
The next day Sally had an idea. I loved it. I asked if she was sure she was okay with it, and she just smiled. We lived in New Jersey, commuting distance from New York. We drove to the local mall. New Jersey has huge, amazing shopping malls. We went directly to the big department store there, and Sally picked a few dresses to try on. She went to the dressing room, leaving the door open a fairly wide crack, and she tried on the first few dresses. I took pictures of her in various stages of undress, through the crack in the door.
Sally emerged to model the dresses and I showed her my pictures. She loved them. She winked, telling me she would try on the rest of her selection of dresses. This time, however, she removed her bra, and she tried them on topless. The dresses looked good on her even without a bra, but that was not the point. I got some great pictures of her topless in the changing room.
Sally surprised me when she removed her panties, but I nevertheless managed to get a rapid sequence of photos as she peeled off her panties. She was deliberately giving me full frontals, too, as she stripped down to nothing at all.
