(Although I don't like revealing the plot, please note that, while most of this story is pure Exhibitionist & Voyeur, it does veer into mild Taboo territory towards the end.)
"Mom! The guy is here to take your pussy pics!"
Oh shit! He was at least fifteen minutes early. I never heard the door--had Kev been lurking down there? I grabbed my UPhone--wasn't he supposed to text? I had absolutely no time to change.
I flew down the stairs, still wearing my shredded jean shorts and my midriff-baring, tie-on blouse. I was a 41-year-old mom, and that is what we wore around the house in the 2030s.
When I hit the ground floor, I saw a very tall, very thin young man chatting with my 18-year-old son. They both turned to look at me. Oh my goodness: the young man could not have been more than 25! He also could have been family: like Kev and I, he had dark blonde hair, and deep brown eyes--but he was even taller and thinner than both of us.
Both young men were looking me over--my soon-to-be intimate photographer with a pleasant smile, Kev with a frown. I knew I still looked good. My shred-shorts weren't as shredded as what the younger girls got away with. My hips were pretty much bare on both sides. There were some long rips exposing both my asscheeks, about mid-cheek. In front though, there were only minuscule tears, just to the left and right of my pubes. I still had a lot of hair down there--I liked it, my husband loved it--and I was not giving in to the trend of shaving it all off.
The young man held out his hand. "Glenn Wright, photographer with the federal Genital Identification Program." He indicated his photo badge around his neck. I took his hand. "Katelyn Stapleton," I replied.
"Ms. Stapleton..."
"Call me Katelyn. Considering what we're about to do..."
"Katelyn." He smiled and his whole face transformed. He really was quite good-looking! Great, I thought. I am about to totally expose myself below the waist to a 25-year-old, handsome stranger.
My son Kev was still staring at me. I really wished he would go back to his room, and play with his virtual girlfriend. I was pretty sure that he was still a virgin; he hardly ever dated, and I was sad to think that his only sexual experiences so far were masturbating to a female nude, AI-generated, voluptuous 3D hologram.
"Kev," I started.
"I know," he shot back. He glared at both of us. "I guess you two wanna be alone." Then he stomped up the stairs and slammed the door to his room.
"Teenagers," I sighed. I turned to Glenn and forced a smile. "Okay: I was planning on changing into a really short loin-skirt, and then just lifting it up for you."
I was already blushing, and our semi-nude photo session had not even started yet.
"Oh, no, Ms.... Katelyn. The state agencies may do it that way, but we prefer our subjects to have nothing on from the waist down. It results in much better pictures, with much more flexibility."
My heart sank. "Nothing on?"
Glenn unexpectedly opened my front door. He waved, and I saw a young woman with glasses about the same age as Glenn, sitting in the passenger seat of the car out front. She waved back.
"That's Dominique," he said. "If you're not comfortable, she can come in and chaperone."
I slowly closed the door and bit my lip. "I'm 41, and, I hope I'm grownup enough not to require a chaperone!"
We walked into the living room. "Can we do it here?" I gestured at our expensive, somewhat decadent black leather sofa.
Glenn shook his head. "For the best, highest-quality photos, we need our female clients in a place in which they can totally lie back--and well--totally spread out. I usually recommend a comfortable bed."
I sighed again. I wanted this over with.
"Let's go," I said, and he followed me up the stairs.
I wondered if Glenn was taking in my exposed asscheeks. I'm a little on the thin side, but I do have a nice shape... except on top. My rear, I'm told, is round and firm. My legs, I know, are long and thin. It seems a lot of men like looking at long, thin legs. Is it because they remind them of teenaged legs?
How I wished that I had my shortest loin-skirt on now! Maybe if Glenn had been enjoying that upskirt view from behind, I could have flirtily sweet-talked him into just letting me flip it up in front.
The decade that was the 2030s became known as the second sexual revolution. In the first revolution, the 1960s, the symbol of sexual freedom was the miniskirt--and women burning their bras.
In the Dirty Thirties, the loin-skirt was the bold, barely-there, sex in your face fashion statement--and women ended up nearly bankrupting the panty industry.
Loin-skirts were based on loincloths--as in those old "me Tarzan: you Jane" movies. Loin-skirts consisted of a very thin belt that went around your waist, and two panels of fabric that hung down from that belt. Depending on how young you were--or how bold--you could wear a length from just below your lower lips in front, to a so-called "party-loin" that went down to the knees or even lower.
Ladies who were older and less bolder--like me--wore loin-skirts that only exposed our hips on the sides, and then went down to the midpoint between our groins and our knees. They were about the length of the old-fashioned miniskirts.
Once I got used to them--and the frisson of not wearing panties--my loin-skirt became my everyday skirt for shopping and running errands. I did love the freedom of going pantiless--and also the sexy feeling of knowing that only two panels of hanging fabric separated my best parts from the eyes of the world.
We entered my bedroom and Glenn had the grace to softly shut the door. I stood in front of the bed, the bed that I shared with my husband, blushing.
"I guess I'll just take these silly shorts off. No point going somewhere to change, since you're going to see everything."
"Whatever you like, Katelyn. I know this is uncomfortable, so whatever you need to do."
Great. He was a sweet guy too.
I sat on the edge of the bed, facing him. I kicked off my flip flops. I bit my lip as I kept looking at him--and not at what I was doing--as I unsnapped my shorts and tugged them down my legs and off.
I placed them on the bed.
I was bottomless in my bedroom in front of a stranger.
"How do you want me?"
"Lying back on your bed, with your um... bottom as close to the edge as possible. And with your knees bent and comfortably separated."
I lay back as if in a dream. I opened my legs and looked over. Glenn wasn't even watching me. He had a shoulder bag that he set down on my dresser. From that, he pulled out what was probably a tiny digital camera.
"Are you ready?" he asked. He was still standing by the dresser. "This is the most uncomfortable part, when I actually step up and, as you said, I see everything."
I blinked and nodded. Yes, Glenn was such a nice guy. He walked to a position where he was standing in front of me, looking down between my open legs. He looked me over and nodded. Did he like what he saw?
"For the best photos, we are going to have to do something about your hair. I have a comb and some gel. I can gel and comb it back, or you can do it."
"Uhhh..." Really? "I'll do it."
I propped my self up on my elbows as Glenn got close and pointed out my hairy issues. I had a lot of stray hairs over the upper part of my clitoral hood, then just a few hairs down below, right where my inner labia started to really bulge out.
I matted the offending hair down as directed. It didn't look as though I was going to need to use the pocket comb. As I looked up at Glenn, smiling his approval of my pussy hair gelling, I thought back to how this craziness began...
