His Anniversary Pictures

Steve kept glancing at the bulletin board while the photographer tried to take their Christmas card picture. This year's picture would not be the best. Marissa was only briefly in town between business trips and had hurriedly joined him for this quick photo session. Christmas was not for a while but he'd scheduled this appointment early to make sure it got done.

The reason Steve kept glancing at the bulletin board was a message that read:

* Naughty Pictures $99.99. The perfect present for anniversaries, birthdays, or just to say I love you. *

Steve very much wanted to find a special gift for their wedding anniversary next month. Maybe some sexy pictures would be unique.

Sometimes when he felt flirty he'd take selfies and sent them to her, especially when she was away on business and he was missing her.

Professionally done naughty pictures would be higher quality, though.

The problem was that Steve was shy at the thought of posing in any sort of sensual fashion before a strange photographer. Yet the owner of the studio seemed to be a nice, ordinary middle-aged man, so maybe there was nothing to worry about.

Having some sexy pictures made for his wife was an intriguing idea, but it would remain just an idea.

They finished up their session and the photographer showed them the pictures on the computer screen. Marissa selected the one she liked best and they left. They walked out into the downtown Miami strip mall.

The mall was in a so-so part of town, and he'd wondered about leaving their new car parked in public where it might get stolen or vandalized. He and Marissa weren't snobs, but you never knew the number of low-quality people were hanging around in neighborhoods like this. But the car was waiting just where they had left it.

They were almost to the car when Steve realized he had forgotten his phone. He told Marissa he'd be right back and he hurried back to the photo studio. He grabbed his phone, relieved it was still there, and thanked the photographer. As he turned back to the exit his eyes paused on the bulletin board again. Before he knew it he had walked back over to the photographer.

"Excuse me," Steve said quietly, in case anyone overheard. "I'm curious about the pictures."

"They'll be ready in plenty of time for Christmas," replied the photographer.

"Not them," Steve said lowering his voice almost to a whisper, "the $99.99 special."

"Oh, the naughty pictures," said the photographer a little too loudly. "Well, for the $99.99 I'll go to your home and take sexy pictures of you in various poses and outfits."

"I'm not sure I would be comfortable wearing anything too revealing."

"That's no problem," said the photographer smiling. "We can find something conservative and take it from there. Many husbands wear their best suit, and many wives even like wearing their wedding gowns. Others prefer bathing suits or towels or sensual robes. Whatever you're comfortable with."

Steve still wasn't sure he wanted to do this, but Marissa was waiting and he made an appointment anyway. The photographer wasn't giving off any weird vibes, so he didn't seem like any sort of threat. He gave the photographer a day the following week he knew Marissa would be away. Steve could always cancel the appointment later. The photographer wrote the date down on a calendar and Steve left. He was vaguely aware of a black man holding the door for him and was careful not to look him in the eyes or say anything to him as he hurried back to his wife waiting in the hot Florida sun.

* *

On the day the photographer was supposed to show up, Steve got out of bed late in the morning and took a shower. His wife had left on a business trip the night before and he was alone in their big house. She was away a lot, but their combined salaries sure paid for a nice lifestyle. He got out of the shower and toweled himself dry. Still nude, Steve walked over to the mirror and looked at himself critically. He knew he had a physique most men would kill for, and he was secretly proud of that. But walking around his house naked and checking himself out felt a little too exhibitionistic, and he felt a desire to cover himself more.

He walked back to the bedroom and rummaged around in the back of the large walk-in closet.

He put on his bathing suit and pulled a sweat-shirt and baggy pants on over it. He felt exposed until the sweat-shirt and pants covered his body. He had a funny feeling in his stomach at the thought of posing for the photographer. He was surprised to realize that half was nervousness, but the other half was excitement.

Steve checked the time. He still had a few minutes until the photographer was due to arrive. He went downstairs, knowing it was a bit early to start drinking, but he wanted something to boost his courage and settle his stomach. He fixed a margarita. He was finishing it when the doorbell rang.

* *

Steve swallowed the rest of his drink and hurried to the door. He gulped when he pulled the door open, surprised to see not the middle-aged studio photographer but a somewhat younger black man standing at his door--and even more surprised to see a camera tripod hanging over his shoulder.

"Hello, Mr. Johnson," said the black man, "I'm Ike. I'm here to take your pictures."

Steve stood there for a second with his mouth open in shock. The black man was about thirty and he was huge. When Steve had opened the door, he had found himself staring at his chest.

"There must be some mistake," Steve said. "I wasn't expecting you." He vaguely remembered a black man at the photography studio opening the door for him.

"The boss took ill and asked me to fill in for him. He's taking some time off. Trust me, I'm a great photographer. You'll love the pictures."

"I don't think this would be appropriate."

"You have a problem that I'm black?" he asked.

"No! Of course not. Not that at all," he exclaimed. Already he had said more words than he intended to. "I was expecting the other photographer. I mean, I'm married."

Now why did I say that? Steve chided himself, What does being married have anything to do with it?

"I understand," he said. "If you want we can cancel, but the boss won't be available for another couple weeks."

This ruins everything, thought Steve. He needed these pictures by next week. "All right, come on in then," he said opening the door wide. He still didn't know if he could go through with this, but he did know one thing: he'd need another margarita before he'd try.

Steve gave the photographer a tour of his house and explained that he was looking for some bathing-suit shots and then some pictures of him in his wedding tuxedo. The black man said he'd need ten minutes to set up. Steve immediately returned to the bar and fixed another margarita. Soon a warm glow was spreading throughout his stomach, and he was feeling a little dizzy. Or maybe it was just nervousness.

"All right, Mr. Johnson, we're ready to go," the photographer called from the outdoor pool area.

Steve finished his drink and stood up. He walked out to pool and saw three cameras set up to point at the steps leading down into the pool.

"Okay sir," he said. "Strip down to your suit and go over to the steps."

Ike frowned when Steve walked over to the small enclosed shower to change. This ain't the time for shy privacy, man! He frowned again when Steve came out with a bulky towel wrapped around himself.

"Ready when you are," he said, and Steve finally dropped the towel.

Ike couldn't believe the lame long-trunk suit the guy was wearing. He hadn't been expecting a male bikini or thong, but this thing looked like something they wore in the 1930's. Still, it couldn't hide what had to be the sexiest body he had ever seen on a guy. His abs were mouth-watering, his legs were toned, probably from running, and his shoulders were slender but wide. That combined with his handsome looks and air of nervous vulnerability made Ike feel a stirring in his groin.

"Now slowly walk into the water," he said.

This was the hardest thing Steve had ever done, and he shivered as he slowly walked down the steps and into the pool. The black man stayed huddled behind the tripod snapping pictures as Steve slowly submerged himself up to his thighs.

"Now swim over to me," he said following Steve's progress across the pool with his camera. "Perfect. You look beautiful. Now haul yourself out and sit on the edge of the pool with your feet dangling in the water."

Steve did as he said and the black man bent down and put his hands on his shoulders adjusting them to his liking, then he brushed Steve's hair back on his head. It was the first time any man had touched him. He found he didn't really mind. It wasn't like this black man was a peer or anything, and the pose would make a nice picture.

"Nice," Ike said snapping a few shots. "Now come on out and lay on your side on this chaise lounge."

Steve got out of the pool and almost stumbled as the heat of the day caused the alcohol to rush to his head. He was grateful to sit back down on his chaise. He moved the back down so it was flat and he laid down. The photographer kneeled and snapped a few shots, then sighed loudly.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Well, I don't want to sound to forward, but that bathing suit looks like something my grandfather would wear. I know these pictures are for your anniversary, and if you're looking to really excite your wife, you need to wear something a little sexier."

Steve sighed. The man was right. He had worn this bathing suit around his wife before and she hadn't really noticed it so why would she now? "Ummm," he waved his finger at him, feeling a little embarrassed that he couldn't remember the man's name.

"Ike," he said.

"Yes, Ike," he repeated his name. "You're right, but I don't own anything else."

"You're in luck," he replied. "We supply outfits at no additional cost. Let me go get them."

Steve watched him jog around the side of the house to his car. He hadn't expected this. He needed more confidence, but it was not a good idea to have another margarita. He'd have water. But it was hot, so Steve thought it would be nice to make What's-his-name a margarita. The man came back carrying a few boxes. Steve handed him his drink.

"No thanks, I'm working," he said.

No problem, thought Steve, I'll drink it a little later.

"Go put one of these on," Ike said, handing him two boxes.

He peeked inside. The first box contained one of the smallest thong-style swimsuits he had ever seen. And it was a kind of pink or salmon color. The other box contained an identical thong but in a light blue.

"I can't wear these," he said looking at the tiny things. "I mean, I can't wear something someone else has worn."

"I can assure you that all our clothes are brand new and have never been worn. They have even been washed several time," lied Ike. He had bought everything yesterday at a thrift store for $10. "At least go try it on." Ike saw he was still hesitating and added, "Trust me Mr. Johnson. I know my stuff. My pictures have probably saved more marriages than a marriage counselor."

"There's nothing wrong with my marriage," said Steve as he tucked the boxes with the thong under his arm and marched off to the shower to change. The damned man knew just the right thing to say.

Steve entered the shower and closed the door. He slid his long trunks off and laid them over the edge of the shower enclosure. He picked up the light blue thong and examined it closely. He wasn't sure how to put it on. Finally he figured out which skimpy part was front and which was back, and his shaky fingers managed to slip it up his thighs and over his hips. It seemed to be a size too small and barely covered his pubic hair.

Steve looked down at his body. He couldn't get a good view in the narrow enclosure, but he knew the thong was way too revealing and he couldn't wear it out to the pool. He reached up to grab his old suit. It was gone! Steve frowned and assumed it had fallen over the wall. He stooped and looked under the enclosure, but it was nowhere to be seen. He decided to interpret that as a sign from whatever gods that he should go through with this. Marshaling his courage he stepped outside the shower.

Steve immediately noticed his suit lying over the back of a chair drying in the sun. The black man was fiddling with a camera. He assumed his swimsuit had blown down and the photographer had thrown it over the chair to dry.

He also wasn't surprised to see that the man had taken his shirt off. It was an extremely hot day, after all, but he couldn't help but notice how well-muscled the man's chest and arms were. Steve had rarely seen so many muscles in one place before and found himself wishing he had half the black man's muscles. Not that he was a weakling--he had some pretty good muscles himself, but the photographer was in a different league. He forced his eyes off his chest and up to the man's face. He was handsome in a brutish way. He had a shaved head, flat nose, and big lips. He was also one of the darkest men he had ever seen. "What's next?" he asked.

Ike had forced himself not to react when he saw the beautiful man in the thong walk out of the shower. He felt his big cock stiffen when he saw Steve's bare ass jiggling on either side of the tiny strip of fabric running up between his cheeks.

"Well, now that you're properly attired, I think we should redo the other poses," he said. "Let's try walking down the pool steps again."

Steve felt a cooling breeze on his rear and looking back he realized his posterior was bare to the world. The slim fabric strip of the thong was sliding up between his cheeks. Once lodged in there, he was a little surprised to find that the thong was actually quite comfortable. He found wearing it and the semi-exposed feeling to be... liberating.

Steve ran through the same poses he had in the last shoot. The one exception was that the photographer had him duck under the water and took some shots of his bursting out of the pool. He found he enjoyed following the man's orders, made in a somehow soothing but commanding voice. He had just finished taking pictures lying on his side on the chaise, when he heard him yell, "Damn."

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"My shirt just blew into the water. Please keep an eye on me while I fish it out. I can't swim."

Ike walked behind the chaise, so that Steve was facing away from him, and grabbed the pool net off the wall. Now or never, Ike thought, reaching into his shorts pocket for the camera's remote control. He concealed the remote in his big hand and threw the pool net over his shoulder. He hit the remote and snapped some pictures of him walking behind Mr. Johnson.

Steve watched as the black guy walked past him and then began trying to net his shirt from the pool. Steve kept an eye on him to make sure he didn't fall in. His eyes kept wandering down to his chest and he forced them back up to the man's face. Staring at the chest of a powerful man wasn't proper for a straight, married man.

Ike took more pictures with the remote as he tried to net his shirt. Hopefully, Steve was staring at him as he snapped the shots. If he had set up the camera angle right, it would look like he was the pool guy and Steve was the master of the house planning on seducing him.

Ike finally retrieved his shirt and draped it next to Steve's swimsuit on the back of the chair. He said, "Okay, just a few more and we'll move inside. Do you have any lotion, by the way? You're starting to burn."

"You're right," Steve said. "I'd better go get some. I'm not used to exposing this much skin or for so long."

* *

Steve ran into the house and upstairs. He grabbed his lotion off the shelf in the bedroom and paused when he passed the full-length mirror. He looked at himself in shock. The thong was completely see-thru when wet! He could see his crotch straining against the thin fabric and could even see his pubic hair. He spun around to look at the nude, pale moons of his posterior. He was showing off more of his body in this thong than even his wife had ever seen in broad daylight. If he had known how revealing this thong was, he never would have worn it.

Oh well, he shrugged, too late now. And I do look great, he thought, giggling. Probably that was the margaritas talking. He smiled at his reflection and returned downstairs. Maybe he'd even keep the thong and wear it around the pool when no one else was home.

Steve lay back in the chaise and began rubbing lotion into his arms and legs. The black man knelt close before him with a camera in his hand and started snapping some shots as his hands moved to his chest. "Ummm ..."

"Ike," he said. This guy couldn't even be bothered to remember his name.

"Ike, what are you doing?"

"These will make for some sexy shots. Now rub lotion around your sexy chest."

He didn't like the man commenting on his chest, but his hands moved to obey. Ike then had him rub lotion all over his belly as he snapped some more shots. He turned over to do his back.

"Here let me help you," said Ike grabbing the bottle of lotion from his hand. He pulled out the remote with one hand as he rubbed lotion onto Steve's back with the other hand he took more pictures. It would look like the husband had asked the pool guy to rub lotion on his back.

People paid good money to look at this stuff on the internet.

Steve tensed when Ike first touched him, but the man's strong hand felt good on his back and he relaxed a little as he moved it down. He jumped again when the hand ran over his left butt cheek. He was about to protest, but by then Ike was rubbing oil onto his right cheek.

Ike moved his hand down to the back of Steve's thigh, and it took all his will power not to spread the man's legs open.

Steve navigated his feeling between wanting to resist and wanting to relax his legs. The area between his thighs felt hot. The sun and the alcohol and exposing himself was turning him on, and part of him was disgusted with himself for letting it go this far.

This was all Marissa's fault for being away so much! She'd been gone a lot and he could hardly remember how long it was since they'd had sex. Some nights he felt desperate to be touched and down there he felt bursting with need.

"That should be enough," he told Ike crisply. The black man immediately stopped and walked around before his face.

* *

Ike stood looking at him for a moment, considering. "Why don't you get on all fours," he said. Steve moved into that position, and Ike took some pictures, coaching along the way. "Now flex your arm muscles and arch your back. Your wife's going to like this pose."

"Damn," he said. "Hold the pose. The sun's glaring off your sexy firm ass." He grabbed the towel and walked behind him.

Ike stood directly behind Steve and quickly pulled his shorts down under his balls, releasing his giant cock. "Hold the pose," he said, wiping the towel across Steve's glistening ass. He dropped the towel and held his thick cock just over his ass cheeks and took a picture. He quickly pushed his cock down so that it looked like he was getting ready to penetrate him and took a few more. He could always airbrush out the thong strip.

"Wait, it's still glaring," he said, picking the towel back up and wiping the skin of Steve's ass. "Hold the pose--and arch your hips a little." Ike grabbed the base of his big cock and squeezed. Then he bent over and stuck out his tongue just above his cheeks so that it looked like he was getting ready to tongue Steve's asshole and took some more pictures. He then stood back up straight. He was still squeezing his cock and it had swollen even bigger from the blood filling it. He held his cock above Steve's ass and posed so that it looked like he was about to orgasm.

"Hold the pose," he said, stepping back and trying to stuff his erect cock back into his shorts and tuck it down so it wouldn't be too obvious.