That night my dreams were confused and feverish, full of images of cocks - mine and others' - filling Vanessa's mouth and pussy and arsehole, and her beautiful face decorated with strings of sperm. I woke up with a start, Vanessa still asleep beside me, naked, the sheets in disarray. Memories of the night before flashed in my brain - bringing that guy back with us, letting him fuck her. I looked at Vanessa - she looked as innocent as a child. I could scarcely believe it had happened.
I needed to see the proof. I got up, still a bit groggy, and retrieved my camera from the lounge room. I took it into my study and uploaded the pictures onto my computer. I sat clicking through them, my mouth dry and my prick stiff in my hand, then started to print them out.
I took the printed photos into the bedroom and, lying down beside Vanessa, began to kiss her softly on the cheek until she stirred and opened her eyes. She kissed me back and sat up, stretching, then noticed the pictures in my hand. I began to lay them out on the bed next to her. She looked at them curiously.
"So, what do you think?" I asked her. She was looking at a picture of her sucking the guy's dick.
"He was nice," she said.
"What did you like about him?"
"He was funny. He had a nice face."
"What about his cock? Did you like that? Did you like it inside you?"
"Yes," she whispered.
Getting up behind her, I grabbed her by the hip and eased my own cock into her pussy. I begun to fuck her slowly, looking over her shoulder at the pictures as I did so.
Later that day, I emailed them to some of my friends.
I asked Vanessa to write an account of being fucked by the stranger, and was so pleased with the result that I told her to keep a diary of her sexual thoughts and experiences. I said she should masturbate at least once a day, and write down what she fantasised about. Once I rang her up at work and got her to masturbate as she sat at her desk, while I listened. I loved the idea of one of her co-workers catching her in the act.
I continued to take photographs of Vanessa regularly. I got into the habit of taking my camera with me whenever we left the house. I liked to take shots of her exposing herself in public places, where there was a chance that others might see her. When we were in the supermarket, for example, I would get her to stop for a moment and pull her blouse down or lift her skirt - she never wore panties when we were out like this - and snap a picture of her. Sometimes we went to a nudist beach which was about an hour's drive from our house, where Vanessa would lie with her legs spread apart, her shaved pussy open for all to see.
At the same time I was giving Vanessa a crash course in pornography. I showed her hardcore videos, and she sat next to me as I trawled through the net looking for the most extreme images I could find. We looked at sites featuring busty women, small-breasted women, hairy, shaved and pregnant women. We looked at women spreading their cunts open, getting fisted, having all three holes filled, or two cocks in their mouth at once. We looked at Japanese schoolgirls pissing into each other's mouths, and having their faces showered with sperm. We went to S&M sites and saw women with their breasts bound until they were purple, having their back and buttocks whipped, and pins stuck through their nipples and labia - the full, glorious range of human perversity. Vanessa was astonished at the sheer variety of porn on offer, but while she looked shocked each time something new and hitherto unimagined appeared, I noticed how quickly she got used to new sights.(I had not yet told her that her own pictures were on the net for anyone to see.)
After hearing Vanessa's confession that she had gone to bed with her friend Laura, I had become obsessed with the idea of seeing her with another girl. I loved to show her lesbian videos, and get her reaction to them. I thought about possible candidates, girls I knew who might be persuaded to come into into our bed, and even thought of trying to find someone through the internet.
One Sunday we were at a barbecue at a friend's house when I heard a familiar female voice saying hello. I turned around and saw a girl named Julie, who had once been married to a school friend of mine, and with whom I had had brief affair about four years ago. She was a brunette, petite and small-breasted, and I could easily have ended up with her, but I'd gone overseas for awhile and when I got back she'd left her husband for another guy.
"Hey, I heard you got married," she said, slapping me on the arm.
"That's right.
"Where is she? Is she here?"
"That's her," I said, pointing to Vanessa, who was standing in the kitchen, talking to some people.
"Wow, you did well! She's gorgeous."
A girl walked up to us and Julie put her hand on her shoulder. "Hey," said Julie, "do you remember my sister Amy?"
"Of course. Hello," I said.
"Hi," she said, smiling. Last time I'd seen her she had only been about fifteen, a skinny, giggly girl who I used to flirt with in a jokey way (she knew Julie was cheating on her husband with me - and approved of it). She'd grown, I saw now, into a beautiful young woman with an elfin face and soft brown eyes, petite and small-breasted like her sister but even better looking. Her hair was straight, brown, shoulder length and parted in the middle, and she wore a white cotton T-shirt (I could just make out a white bra beneath it); a pleated, tartan skirt; knee length white stockings and shiny, black leather shoes.
"Well you've changed a bit. Last time I saw you were playing on a swing."
"I don't think so," she said, rolling her eyes.
I was talking to them for a while, then Julie went off to talk to someone else and I was left alone with Amy. She had just finished school, she told me, and was about to start an arts degree at university. She said she wanted to work in the media, maybe journalism. "God, you're cute," was all I could think.
