The photos -- four of them, 8-1/2 by 11-inch prints on thick, high-quality stock -- hit me like a bolt of current, making my heart race with arousal. They were gorgeous, incredibly sexy and beautifully shot with the kind of glow and mood you find in classic erotic photography. Best of all, they were of my 48-year old wife.
"They're for you, for Valentine's Day," she said, a little sheepishly but obviously hopeful.
"They're absolutely....stunning," I said, never dreaming that she had it in her to do something like this. Maggie wasn't a prude, but our sex life had been pretty straight-forward. We'd taken a few playful Polaroids early in our relationship, but nothing after. Life and kids quickly overran our time and ability to do more than make quick, furtive love when we got the chance and had the energy -- which was now maybe once a month -- and while it was always comfortable, we never pushed the envelope beyond routine -- peeling off parts of each other's night clothes, some quick feels, maybe some brief oral sex and then the main course.
Now, here she was --- nude, except for black nylons, sitting on a furry white seat in a richly-appointed room, her back to the camera but turned so her right breast, its nipple fully erect, was in profile. The look in her eyes was dreamy and her long chestnut hair hung down her back. Her ass looked creamy and voluptuous.
In the second photo, she was naked except for a sheer, almost diaphanous gown, peeling it off to reveal herself as she stood by the same bed, as if about to enter for a night of passionate lovemaking.
In the third shot, she was lying on her stomach on a bed with a black velvet spread, wearing only a black bustier. garter belt, and nylons, reading an erotic novel with red rose petals sprinkled around her. The photo was black and white, but the petals were vivid red. Again, her bare ass looked luscious.
In the fourth shot, she was nude, lying on her back, her hair splayed across a huge white pillow, lust in her eyes and her legs spread wide as if inviting her lover to come taste the open rosebud lips of her neatly trimmed pussy.
"These are amazing...."
"You really like them?" she said.
"Are you kidding? I never dreamed...but, I mean, I always knew you looked great, but..."
With the demands of mid-life, she began to feel unsexy. She explained how one morning while the kids were in school and I was at work, she had stood in front of the full-length mirror in our bedroom....
Maggie was still wearing the t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms she had slept in, and her hair was tousled. The image in the mirror vaguely depressed her. She looked and felt tired and overweight, wondering how she could have allowed herself to put on extra 10 pounds.
On the bed was the newspaper she'd been reading at breakfast, open to a story about a local photographer who specialized in "boudoir" – sensual and even highly erotic portraits of women that were intended to help them reaffirm their beauty and sexuality while captivating and stimulating the viewer.
"I got started by photographing my friends," Michelle Farland, the photographer explained in the story. "I love sexuality and eroticism. It excites me, and my subjects, to captaure their joy, beauty and passion in their sexual expression. I collaborate with my subjects to create images of their own eroticism, sensuality, sexuality, fantasies, fetishes, desires, relationships. I am always seeking that real, erotically-charged moment. So much is revealed and the photos are so much more powerful when my subject is actually sexually aroused during our session. It depends on how deeply a subject is able to access her sexuality, how well we connect creatively. It's essential that I get my subject and what her turn-on is."
The passage and the idea of posing nude had turned Maggie on, enough to make her leave the kitchen and go upstairs to the bedroom, but the image in the mirror dimmed the charge. Peeling off her t-shirt she gazed at her breasts – still firm although she could swear they had sagged somewhat – and her round, pink nipples which grew erect in the cool air. Cupping her breasts, she let them flop and bounce, turning in profile.
It was then that her disdainful gaze moved to her hips and rear. She'd always been a bit bottom-heavy but she considered her ass the best feature of her figure. I fully agreed and she knew it. Yet now she felt fat as she looked at herself. Pulling down her pajama bottoms, she stood in her powder blue panties, turning her back to the mirror and noticing how they had ridden up into the cleft of her ample buttocks. As she pulled her panties down, the sight consoled her. Her ass was still toned and without cellulite, the sexy cheeks almost tear-dropped in shape.
Turning again, she kicked off her panties and stood in front of the mirror. She didn't much like the little belly she'd sprouted and her pubic hair was overgrown, but she was grateful for the shape her round hips and thighs were in.
Heading for the dresser, Maggie fetched a battery-powered hairclippers and proceeded to trim her pubic hair, reddish tufts landing on the carpet as she left a small inverted triangle on the bulge of her mons. The vibrations of the shaver restored her lust, and she could feel herself getting wet as she gazed at her pussy, the hood of her clitoris now visible. Placing her right foot on a cedar chest, she ran the shaver on each side of her labia, removing the last wisps. Palming her moist sex, the skin felt a little stubbly, so she decided to shave in the shower. Just not yet...
Sitting on the bed nude except for her socks, she grabbed the newspaper and read: "For erotic shoots. I prefer to work with women. Women often share some level of common sexual experience and eroticism. I also think they are more comfortable being naked around each other and even sharing sexual pleasure, especially when they are close friends. The female body is so attractive, and our society encourages it, unlike with men. That makes communication and collaboration easier. "
Maggie let her hand roam across her thigh and down to her pussy. She imagined posing and wondered how she would look. Farland insisted that many women of all shapes and sizes had come in feeling bad about their bodies and, after posing nude or in some sensual way, had left feeling stunned by their own beauty and sexual power. They'd also enjoyed the experience of posing while deeply aroused. Many women had done the photos for their lovers and husbands, and with Valentine's Day coming up, Maggie wondered if I would like such a gift.
There was also her long-held but never acknowledged desire to be seen nude and to act openly sexual in front of others, especially women. She had enjoyed our trips to the local clothing-optional beach, but had expressed a fear of doing more when we shared our fantasies one night while we were dating.
The newspaper story mentioned the photographer's website. Moving over to the computer in the alcove of our bedroom, Maggie sat down and signed on. She eagerly read Farland's reassurance that full nudity wasn't necessary, and after viewing several well-done galleries of glamour shots, felt herself eargerly visiting the boudoir section.
There she saw everything from fit women with almost perfect figures to the plump and slightly homely. Some were partially and even fully clothed, others were completely naked and, in the erotic section, still others were more than sexually suggestive – one woman, a young blonde of about college age, was masturbating and in the throes of obvious orgasm, but they all looked beautiful and utterly sexy in the lush settings and myriad degrees of lighting and tone. Maggie swallowed hard and wondered if she could do such a thing ... while feeling a bolt of sexual excitement that wouldn't quite fade.
Back on the bed, Maggie lay back, propped herself up with the pillows and gazed at her nude image in the mirror. Her hands played across her breasts, and when she spread her legs, the sight of her nearly bald pussy made her very excited. She gently fingered her clit and explored the moisture in her vagina, a fantasy of posing nude overcoming her, bringing orgasm near...
