All characters, events, and text in this story are purely fictional, and are created by and the sole property of the author. Contains adult material.
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While mall shopping for Christmas presents with my friend, I happened to mention that my husband, Alan, had become fascinated with looking at erotic pictures and videos on some of the Internet sites.
"He says that he sometimes fantasizes that I am the model in the pictures," I told her. "He's even pushing me these days to shave my pubic hair. Do you think that's what a thirty-something mother of two should be doing?"
"I certainly hope so, Olivia," my friend, Judy, replied. "Because I've been shaving my pussy for a couple of years now. You really should try it; it feels great. As for Alan's Internet voyeurism, I think every guy wishes that his wife would be sexier and more daring. That's pretty normal, Olivia, unless he's only turned on by the really hard-core and kinky stuff. What sort of pictures does he look at?"
"Oh, you know," I said. "Babes in skimpy bikinis and lingerie, who then strip to full nudity. Alan doesn't go for the really raw stuff. He claims that the hardcore pictures don't reflect the true joys of sex. The models look like they're bored with the whole thing. He says that he appreciates erotica in which women are sincerely enjoying their sexuality, and not faking it for a few bucks from hard-up guys trying to get it off by themselves."
"Well, Olivia, I'd say that you're pretty lucky to have a guy who shows that much common sense in his mind and below his belt. I don't think you have a thing to worry about."
I said, "What I think is that Alan is bored with me because I'm too uptight about sex, and he's using erotic pictures to stir things up. Last month when I asked him what he wanted for Christmas, he encouraged me to open up and express my inner sexiness by going to a local glamour photographer. He said that he would really appreciate a private album of erotic pictures of me as a gift. Can you imagine?"
Judy said, "That sounds like it could be a lot of fun, Olivia. It's too late for Christmas, but why don't you make an album for Alan's birthday next May? A friend of mine once told me about a couple who have a glamour photography business somewhere in California. He's the cameraman, and she was a former centerfold model. My friend went to them when she wanted to make a special gift for her husband. She showed me some of their work, and it's very high quality and sophisticated, less boudoir stuff with fantasy lingerie and more erotic. I'll call her and get their address for you."
"What are you suggesting, Judy?" I replied, somewhat astonished at her matter of fact tone of voice. "That I become a model in bikinis or lingerie and stockings?"
"Yeah, or maybe even less," she replied, giggling. "I think that you would have fun experiencing what it's like to be a sexy model. You could even make up your own personal centerfold calendar for Alan."
"That would certainly be a special gift for Alan, all right, but isn't that be a little too far over the top for a thirty-something suburban mom?"
"You know, Olivia," she coaxed. "Ten years from now, you would really treasure a pictorial record of how you looked at the peak of your physical attractiveness. And admit it, babe: cutting loose like that could do your whole life a lot of good. My friend told me that Don and Carole specialize in photographing women who want to express their inner sensuality through erotic photography."
"And just what does that last part really consist of?" I rebutted. "Right now, the idea of doing even glamour posing in front of a photographer seems too much over the top for a housewife with school-age kids."
"Why should having your picture taken in a bikini or lingerie be so risquΓ©, Olivia, just because we're mothers and a dozen years out of college? Why shouldn't we still have that same kind of adventuresome feeling that we did then? I'll bet that you experimented with some crazy things when you were in school. I remember that once I volunteered for a psych department study on female masturbation."
I had to admit that I had done some pretty wild things in my sorority days. Perhaps I had become too conservative and predictable in the process of raising a family. I was still pondering that question when Judy called me a week later with information on Don and Carole Donelli in Carmel, California, on the Monterey Peninsula.