While Janice and I truly love each other, we also enjoy commenting on the many coeds on campus and in the surrounding area. When we buy or rent adult films, they are often lesbian films, or titles featuring one guy with multiple girls. Sexually, she remains exclusive to me, which I genuinely appreciate, although I do fantasize about watching her being intimately involved with one of her stunning friends.
She was never a model, but could certainly be one if her forthcoming biology career does not work out for her. Janice definitely enjoys being in front of a camera: manual camera, video camera, Web camera, even pinhole camera. Somewhat often, she is in front of my digital camera - sometimes socially covered, sometimes in various states of undress. And whenever she sees a picture of a young woman which particularly appeals to her, her "competitive" nature kicks in and she wants to emulate it, trying to match it or - even better - improve upon it in some way.
Such was the situation when Janice returned home from a study group one night. Earlier in the evening, I had come across an interesting wallpaper on the Internet, featuring an image of a slickened coed, the oil making her nude body reflect the lights (positioned behind the camera) quite nicely; propped up on her elbows, she grinned as she looked at someone or something off-camera to the left, the background of the shot so dark that her near-albino skin truly stood out even without the oil. I liked the image so much that I had made it the wallpaper on our computer.
When Janice went to the computer to check her e-mail, she saw the desktop image, and cooed appreciatively, in that special tone which announces to my ear: "I like that image, and I want to try that!!!"
The next evening, that is exactly what we did. We darkened the apartment, so that the only available light came from the open bedroom doorway well behind me. After covering the table with an old black blanket from my Boy Scout camping days, Janice mounted the table and began to liberally apply the oil to her naked body. I watched, fascinated, as her skin began to reflect the light from the bedroom doorway. Nothing was said between us, and nothing really needed to be said: From the gleam in each eye and the upward curve of her pink-painted lips, I knew that Janice was thrilled to be doing this; from the bulge at the front of my jeans, she knew that I was thrilled to be the one capturing her emulation of the wallpaper on our computer.