"Well, my love. Our horizons are certainly expanding. Are there any more secret suppressed desires you'd like to reveal?"
It was a couple of days after we'd fucked in front of our bedroom window with the shades open. There's been no calls, no summonses no policeman at the front door. Harry and I had come a long way in our exploration of his new sexual frontiers. Not that I consider myself an expert in such matters but I was still somewhat more knowledgeable than he.
We were having our noon cup of coffee. Harry's doctor had suggested strongly that he might cut down on the caffeine so I agreed to join him—makes it easier if you have a little support. We were having fewer cups and spread throughout the day. Two cups in the morning, one at noon and maybe another with dinner.
Harry smile at me. "Here's the thing. You already know I like pictures." Did I ever. Harry was amassing a fast-growing file of digital pictures. Many were just nice ordinary landscapes and a few portraits. But there were others. Mostly of me, but some of the two of us together in what are sometimes called intimate poses. Very intimate poses. Harry liked to experiment and with the tripod and remote controls and timers, he was getting some pretty interesting stuff. I was surprised to discover the kick I got out of seeing Harry and myself fucking, and doing other things. We'd just about made it through the Kama Sutra of sex positions, but we were running into limitations. Like he'd get a really nice shot set up with interesting lighting and a new angle for the camera. But then, we'd get close to the big O and the camera would jiggle, or he'd forget to trigger the shutter. Sex can be pretty distracting unless you're a really experienced porn star who fakes orgasm on cue. I assumed that, not ever having indulged in the commercial side of sex.
"I've been thinking," he said. "You remember the session with the plastic pearls?"
Did I ever. I'd never used beads anally before, or anywhere else. Sure, I read about how in the Far East, women would put a string of beads in their vagina or their anus and pull them out at the appropriate time, adding to orgasmic joy, but I'd never tried it until Harry talked me into it. I do admit some of the pictures of my face after I masturbated to a climax and yanked the beads out of my ass were pretty great. But the beads made me a little sore.
Then I had an idea. Beads in my vagina when Harry and I fucked, in the missionary or any other position where he was in me didn't work. At least we couldn't figure out a way. But then I persuaded Harry to let me stick the beads up his ass. He said it was kind of a weird feeling, but then once I yanked them out just when he was coming. That, he said, was awesome.
Of course, one of the limitations we had was that I could have more than one orgasm during our photo/sex sessions. Harry, alas, was really only able to perform a couple times of a day. I mean ejaculate. Or get a good solid erection. He could sure perform in other ways, and by now we'd both graduated from the fingers, toes and tongue school of manipulation. We went to a sex shop in the next town and bought some toys. Harry liked the butt plug, and cock rings of various kinds helped some, but they were not really comfortable. We tried as bunch of salves and lotions and rubs. Felt good, fun to apply, but they didn't keep his pecker up longer or make it any stiffer.
"I want to see more," he said. "I want to see the way my penis slides into your sex., what it looks like. Once when you were on top and feeding me in real slow, the light was just right so your cunt lips sort of embraced my penis. It was lovely and so erotic. Remember?"
I licked my lips at Harry. Of course I didn't remember. Not the exact time he was referring to. After all I couldn't count the number of times I'd spread my legs while squatting over Harry's prick and slowly let myself down on him. Keeping a count was not my thing. Besides in that position, unless I was real careful, I could come pretty quickly. Sometimes it happened before I was ready.
We'd circled around this subject before. I knew where Harry was heading. He wanted to get a third party involved. Either to take the pictures or to fuck me while Harry recorded the incident. I was more than a little reluctant. I knew some folks who'd gotten into sharing, mostly sharing the women of the pair. For a lot of them, when they told me about it, the guys were disappointed because their wives or girlfriends had finally left them, and the women who talked to me seemed to be saying they were always reluctant, like they'd been almost forced to go along, and then they'd found better lovers and left the guy who started the whole thing.
On the other hand, I knew several swinging couples who were in long-term relationships or marriages and having super times, because both people were more than okay with the sharing scene. Now Harry reached across the table and took my hand. Right away his finger was making soft little circles in my palm. He knew that drives me crazy. It's like there's a direct connection to my crotch. I started to get wet down there.
"I know we're sort of talked about this, and I just want you to hear me out" he said softly. "I really want some pictures of you—of us―having sex in some of the setups we've done. But we just need another person."
"Okay, Harry, here's the deal. I love you, you know that, right? And partly because I do, and because I know you love me and wouldn't push me to do something if I didn't want to, and you have to stop playing with my hand and pushing my button." I pulled away, but he promised to be a good boy and just hold my hand. I let him. He had learned that certain caresses of my hand and fingers were really distracting made it hard for me to maintain my position toward something.
"I just think it wouldn't be such a bad thing if we could find a good photographer to help us out."
"You want to ask Leon?" That brought a long loud laugh from Harry.
"Leon would love to do it, I'm sure. But he's no photographer and I'm pretty sure his simmering lust for you would quickly get in the way of his good judgment."
"Simmering lust?" I giggled. "Leon?"
"Sure. Wife and various female, uhh, companions aside, he's been hot for you for a long time. Since even before you and I hooked up."
"Okay, never mind Leon. Look, my sweet. Since you're so set on this and I admit the voyeuristic streak in me seems to be intrigued, let's cautiously explore the possibility."
Harry smiled and said, "There's a pool party at the Harris's next Saturday. Shall we go?"
"Sure, if it's hot enough to swim. I'll call Mary and see what we should bring." Mike and Mary Harris were part of the community that hung around the edges of the college. They had money from somewhere and contributed to various building and academic foundation funds that the college used to entice donors. They didn't have their name on a building yet, but it was rumored to be in the works.
Saturday was definitely hot enough for a pool party. What's more the humidity was right up there as well. Mary Harris had asked us to bring some snacks, so I made up a big bowl of a zingy crab dip I'd learned from my aunt years ago. Harry went to the store in the morning to get some chips for the dip while I finished up and iced the bowl and ingredients. I liked to make the dip ahead of time because it tasted even better after blending for a while. But the heat and the fish and other stuff made it necessary for me to keep everything cold.
Harry came back with the chips and we set up the cooler for the dip. He was whistling softly between his teeth and seemed unusually chipper. "I'll just get our bag with our suits and sunscreen," he said and went upstairs. He handed the small gym bag to me and hauled the ice chest to the car and we were off.
Mike and Mary had laid on a couple of big kegs of cold beer and there was lots of food. My dip was a huge success and the crowd of people from the college and the community were soon in a hyper-convivial mood. Three tables had been set up under umbrellas for people who wanted to play cards, there were lots of lawn chairs scattered about and the big pool sometimes was crowded, sometimes not. There was a lot of grab-ass already and things were sliding toward an all-out drunken orgy.
"I'm gonna change and go swimming," I told Harry late in the day. He grinned, waved and went back to his conversation with a couple of the old boys. I was hot and sweaty and was going to shower before I put on my swim suit. So I went up to the sort of guest wing where we were supposed to go and looked for a shower. It wasn't exactly quiet, there were several people going back and forth and the door to the bathroom I went to was ajar. It was also occupied. I didn't hear them at first because the shower was running, but it was obvious that's what they'd been doing. I didn't recognize either the guy or the woman he was holding up by her generous fanny. They were sort of sideways to me in the shower when I barged in and the guy turned toward me, swinging the woman around. I didn't recognize the generous cock he had shoved up into her, either.
"Oops, sorry. The door was open and—" I waved my hand and started to back out.
"'S okay," muttered the guy. "We were just," and he flexed his hips so his cock slid further into the woman he was holding off the floor. She must have liked it, because the moan she issued sounded positive.
