My Wife's New Profession

1.Pillow Talk

It was a Thursday night in the middle of August. My wife Nancy and I lay in bed embracing after having sex for well over an hour. Actually, except for its duration, the sex was fairly conventional (lots of oral sex and vaginal fucking). But for some reason it had seemed especially good for both of us.

Even though we were incredibly relaxed and it was past midnight, we lay in bed for some time talking.

Nancy, her head on my chest, began talking about how "well fucked" she felt and more generally about our sex lives: "I guess we aren't much like other married couples, are we?"

"That's an understatement," I answered, though the question seemed only rhetorical.

"I mean," she continued, "we have super sex together, like tonight, and still you allow me to have sex with other men. Sometimes I wonder if this isn't unfair to you. After all, you're a very sexy guy. Wouldn't you like to have other women? I wouldn't object. How could I?"

I thought a few seconds before replying: "There are several women I'd fuck if the chance occurred, but I especially love fucking you whenever I want to and occasionally watching you with other men. In fact, I have to admit that sometimes when I'm fucking you, images of you with other guys run through my mind."

"The same thing happens with me," said Nancy. "I mean sometimes when we're having sex my mind sort of drifts to what it felt like getting it from some other guy."

For some reason, I found the thought of her being unfaithful to me in her mind even while I was fucking her very arousing.

Since I didn't respond to her right away, she asked, "You don't feel betrayed by that, do you?"

"Not at all. In fact, I feel very lucky."

"Meaning?"

"I'm lucky to be able to watch you meeting other guys, watch you turning them on, watch you allowing yourself to be seduced, watch you being pleasured by them -- all those parts of the game are incredibly horny to me. And knowing that your sexual experiences with these guys sometimes get into your head while we're fucking, well, that makes the whole thing even hornier to me."

She didn't say anything, so I continued. "When we're alone having sex, there are different kinds of thrills. Sometimes I feel really possessive, like I own you or something. Sexist pig that I am, I objectify you as a beautiful sexual creature that I'm lucky enough to be able to enjoy any way I want to. Sometimes, though, I have more traditional romantic feelings. Having sex with you makes me feel like your very intimate friend, your soul-mate, and, well, your loving husband."

Nancy laughed and said, "I'm relieved that you like doing me as much as watching me being done."

"That pretty well sums it up. Sometimes I'm not sure you're getting as much out of our little sex games as I do, though. When you have sex with other guys, is it really as good as you make it seem?"

This question didn't come out of the blue. It's one that comes up in our conversations pretty regularly, almost as a sort of sexual ritual. We both know, in a general way, what her answer will be. But she knows I like hearing it over and over again.

She paused, seeming to mull it over: "Generally, yes. It's different than when I fuck you, though. With guys I don't know, there's an element of risk or danger involved. I'm not sure how it's going to go with a strange guy, or several strange guys. Since you're always nearby to protect me, I'm usually not too worried about it, though."

"But do you enjoy it fully?" Again, this question was a part of our sex-discussion ritual. Nancy's answer(s) to this question, which vary slightly with her mood, tend to be almost comically quasi-analytical.

"Oh, yes," she answered, kissing me on the neck. "Very much. I guess it's a high-risk high-reward thing. My orgasms with other guys are usually no better than the ones I have with you. They're just different. You know my body perfectly. You know just how to arouse me and fuck me and bring me off. With other guys, there's a newness, an awkwardness, an uncertainty about the whole thing. They usually bring me off, too, or at least I get off while fucking them. But sometimes this is because I let other thoughts enter my mind. I think about you watching me and being excited about what you see. I think about how wicked and unfaithful I'm being. I even think about how degrading it is to be used like a whore. All these thoughts make sex with other guys a slightly more complex thing."

As she whispered these things to me, I could feel her breath against my neck. I could also feel her right hand caressing my cock, which was still flaccid but beginning to come to life.

I asked her then the question that nearly always comes next: "Which guys did you especially enjoy fucking?"

"Well, I don't know," she began, pretending that she hadn't expected the question, "I tend to remember the most recent one best. That would be that chunky guy who fucked me downtown in the hotel room. Having him fuck me hard in front of his drunken friends while you stood by watching was very exciting. I felt used, but in a safe way. When I was cumming, I was thinking 'How could I let these guys do this to me? What sort of a wife am I?'"

I didn't say anything. Nancy had begun stroking my cock, which was now half-hard again even though I'd cum in her only about thirty minutes earlier.

"I suppose I should see a psychoanalyst," said Nancy.

"Why?"

"I mean, how normal is it for a woman to get off on being degraded? There's probably something wrong with me. Or maybe the problem is that I have no guilt about it."

"Are you worried about it -- I mean not having any guilt?" I asked.

Instead of answering me, she went back to my earlier question. "I think the guy I enjoyed most was probably Adrian, that big guy you filmed me with up in our bedroom. Of all the guys I was with in that eighteenth-century-costume thing we did, he was definitely the best. When he was fucking me in our bed my orgasm was so strong I nearly passed out."

She wasn't exaggerating. We'd watched the video I'd made of Adrian fucking her several times together and her orgasms had obviously been quite intense.

"Well, he fucked you again out in the back yard cabin, too. I got some good footage of him walking around on the platform with you impaled on his dick. It looked like you had a pretty good orgasm then, too."

"It was good, all right, but not as good as when he had me upstairs. I mean, except for you, he and I were alone in the bedroom, and there was less of the degradation thing going on. He had such a big cock and, you know, it was just hot, in-and-out screwing. He really got to me."

"He's probably still in town. Would you like to fuck him again?"

"No. He was starting to get possessive and I don't want to encourage him. I'd rather move on to new situations."

By now, my cock in her hand was fully hard again. Nancy seemed surprised: "Cal, are you ready to go again already?"

I gave her big kiss. "Not now. My hard-on is back but I'm wiped out. Can we wait till morning?"

She laughed and let go of my cock. "Sure. I'm tired, too. We've both been working pretty hard lately. Maybe we can do something really sexy tomorrow."

"Like what?" I asked. I had Friday off and she could phone the gallery and get her day off too, so we had the day to ourselves.

"I'd like to get out of town. Maybe we could take a drive out of town and fool around. I promise to wear as little as possible."

I fell asleep shortly after this conversation about a Saturday drive. The last thing I remembered was hearing Nancy's voice whispering something intimate in my ear.

2.We Take a Drive

By 9:00 a.m. Friday morning we were heading down the Coastal Highway south of the city. Then fog was burning off and it was supposed to be a fairly nice day.

I'd watched Nancy getting dressed and saw that this might be a very interesting outing. She'd put on a white button-down shirt, a short light-weight blue skirt (which I noticed was transparent when back-lit), and sandals. Under her skirt, she was wearing a pair of white g-string panties with a panel so narrow that it barely covered her cunt lips. It excited me to know that her crotch and ass, unless she was very careful about how she moved, would be on full display.

And, of course, under her white blouse she was braless.

After stopping at a Denny's in Pacifica for a late breakfast, we headed further south. The beaches and rock formations along the way were beautiful, and we decided to stop at one of the beach pull-outs to do a little exploring. The weather hadn't warmed up very much yet, so Nancy pulled her sweater on over her blouse.

But her legs remained wonderfully on display. I dawdled behind at the car to get my camera out of the trunk as Nancy headed down a trail that led to some rock formations and tide pools. She'd mentioned especially wanting to look at them. There were four or five other people around, mostly older retired types. For some reason, none of them walked down to the rocks. Instead, they stayed near the parking area, a couple of them staying in their cars, and looked out to sea.

Then I spotted a tall, rather nerdy-looking high school kid. He seemed to be with two women, both (I thought) too old to be his mother. While they huddled together near their car, he left them to walk down the trail ahead of me and about fifty feet behind Nancy.

I briefly lost sight of both the kid and Nancy. But when I reached the edge of a small cliff overlooking the rocks, I noticed Nancy walking around among several tide pools. Below me and only about twenty feet from Nancy, the teenager stood watching her.

And, just then, both he and I were treated to a marvelous sight. Nancy leaned forward to peer into one of the pools. As she did this, a breeze lifted the back of her skirt high enough to expose, briefly, most of her gorgeous naked ass.

She had her back to him (and me), and I wasn't sure she knew the boy was there. Whether she did or not, she suddenly dropped to both knees and leaned way forward to peer more closely into a tide pool. Reaching into the pool with her right arm, she seemed to be trying to touch some creatures living there. (She knew better than to actually disturb them, of course.)

I changed my position slightly so that I could get both Nancy (on her knees and leaning forward) and the teenager into the same frame. I then snapped several shots of him staring intently at Nancy's rear end. From my shooting angle about ten feet higher than where they were, I couldn't quite see all of her ass, but since the kid was closer to her and at her level, I knew he had to be getting a great view.

After holding her position for almost a minute, Nancy rocked back on to her haunches and stood up. Looking around, she spotted me on the cliff above her and called out to me. "Come on down, Cal. There are lots of neat little creatures in here."

Pretending that I'd just arrived at my vantage point above Nancy and her admirer, I answered that I was on my way. The boy, an inch or so taller than I and weighing maybe 160 pounds, looked at me with a slightly startled expression on his face. Had I caught him looking at my beautiful wife's or girlfriend's ass? Would I be angry with him?

As I walked past him a few seconds later, I gave him a friendly nod and said, "Great day for tide pool exploring, right? I wonder what she's found in there."

He smiled back uncomfortably before following me over to stand a few feet from Nancy and me. She leaned forward again and in her best school-teacher's voice pointed out the urchins, snails, and anemones living in the little pool. She said she was disappointed that there weren't any starfish and suggested that children had probably removed them from the pool She smiled at the boy and asked him where he went to school.

Removing his glasses and cleaning them on his shirt, he answered that he'd just graduated from high school in Pacifica, the town where we'd stopped for breakfast. He then volunteered that he'd be attending UC-Santa Barbara in a few weeks. He had an impressive mop of curly black hair was on the verge of being handsome. The general impression he gave, though, was one of awkwardness and shyness.

So, since he'd graduated from high school several months ago, I figured he was probably eighteen. Because he was so thin and had a baby face, though, he looked younger. I glanced over at Nancy, who flashed me a knowing smile, and decided that it might be fun to involve this kid in a little further indecency. He'd already seen my wife's ass, and he'd obviously liked what he'd seen, so I decided to invent a situation that would give him a chance to see more.

I introduced myself and said, "This is Nancy. I'm a photographer and she's a model I use a lot. We just stopped off here for a little while. Actually, we're looking for a secluded beach where, when if warms up a little, we can take a few glamour shots. I don't know this area very well. Do you have any suggestions?"

This really got his attention. He looked up toward the parking area and said, "It's too bad I'm here with my mother and aunt. If I weren't, I could show you some really great places. I know a few south of us."

"Well," I said, "I guess we can find a place on our own. But I'd be willing to pay someone to show us a good place and act as a spotter."

He asked what a "spotter" was.

"Someone to look out for unwelcome spectators. My photography gets pretty erotic and I don't like people stumbling on to me while I'm shooting a model."

He looked perplexed. Was he really stuck with his mother (who must've had him when she was in her late thirties) or was he free to do something far more interesting?

While he was pondering this dilemma, which he acted out artlessly by glancing up to the parking area and then back at Nancy, she asked him his name.

He said it was Eddie. He gave his last name, too, something Italian that I didn't quite catch.

I tried to solve his problem for him. "Why don't you ask your mother if you can earn a few bucks by working a couple of hours for me. I can drive you home afterwards. That is, if you still live in Pacifica."

He grinned widely at me. "Oh, yes. I'm sure she won't mind. And I'm really tired of being around my aunt. She's driving me crazy."

So Eddie ran back up the trail to the parking area to talk to his mother while I took a few innocent photos of Nancy fooling around in the tide pools.

Not looking up at me, she asked, "Do we have some idea where this is going?"

"Nope. But it might involve you getting naked. You don't mind doing that for Eddie and me, do you?"

"Of course not. He already saw my butt, you know. I noticed him standing behind me when I was bending over. These g-string panties don't cover much. I don't think he could quite see my vagina, though."

"There's always time for that. He's not a really macho kid. Don't you like them a little more manly?"

"Sometimes I do," said Nancy with an evil grin. "But it might be fun to corrupt an innocent young thing. I guess he's legally an adult, isn't he?"

"Probably. We could ask him, I guess."

My wife looked so incredibly sexy standing there a few feet away from me. I had to suppress a desire to grab her and give her a big kiss. But I was supposed to be in a professional, not a personal, relationship with her. It wouldn't do to have the kid see us embracing.

Eddie didn't return as quickly as I'd thought he would, so I suggested to Nancy that we head back to our car. Maybe he couldn't get permission from his mother to go off in a car with strangers. She preceded me up the trail back to the parking area, and walking below her I was treated to a wonderful view up her breeze-tossed skirt. Once I reached up and quickly goosed her. She squealed and giggled.

When we reached the parking area, I spotted Eddie walking toward us. He said his mother had given him permission to accompany Nancy and me on "a photographic expedition." He said that she wanted to meet me first, though. Then he whispered something to me that made me realize he was less innocent than I at first thought: "I told her it's a nature shoot."

I smiled at him and walked over to where his mother and aunt stood. I introduced myself as a photographer and said I'd like to pay her son something to show me some nice spots farther on down the coast. I was very ingratiating. Nancy, meanwhile, had climbed back into our car. I didn't want her obvious sexiness to be at odds with the supposed seriousness of our project.

Eddie's mother, who looked very tired, relented and asked me to make sure I got him home at a reasonable hour. I got the impression that she didn't want to spend too much time alone with her sister.

So, minutes later, with Nancy in the front seat and Eddie in the back, we pulled out of the parking area and headed south on Highway 1. Nancy, turning her body to engage Eddie in conversation, tried to find out more about him. We learned that he was eighteen, but just barely. In college he planned to study math and computer science. And he didn't care if we paid him anything or not. He was really glad to get away from his aunt.

Nancy, for her part, told him that she'd been a fourth-grade teacher until she'd been laid off a year ago. Since losing her teaching job, she'd been forced to go back to working as a model. I listened as she improvised this plausible but quite fictitious tale. She went on to explain that, at 5'4", she was too short for fashion modeling. She'd done a little catalog modeling when she was in college but now worked mainly for erotic photographers "like Cal." She just hoped that, if she found another teaching job, photographs of her wouldn't emerge to get her fired.

Eddie ate this story up. Looking at him in the rear-view mirror, I could see his mind working. Exactly what sorts of photos did this beautiful woman pose for? Just nudes? Actual fucking?

We drove for about half an hour before he suggested that we stop at a place called Bean Hollow Beach. Eddie said it was less well known than some of the others beaches. He must've been right because there weren't any cars in the parking area. I fetched my camera and catch-all bag out of the trunk and handed our blanket to Eddie to carry. Nancy, carrying a large beach towel, walked ahead of us as we passed some fields and headed down a trail to the beach.

It was a pretty long walk before we got down to the beach. So its relative inaccessibility might've made Bean Hollow Beach somewhat unpopular.

Eddie led us to a set-back area of a small cove. I had him spread out the blanket while I got each of us a bottle of water from my bag. I noticed a man with his dog quite a way south of us on the beach but didn't see anyone else. From our location we could easily see anyone else approaching us (so, strictly speaking, there was no need for a "spotter").

The sun was peeking in and out of the fog and Nancy, who'd taken off her sweater and kicked off her sandals, walked down to the water. I followed her with my camera. Our photographer-and-model story was bogus, of course, but my beautiful wife undeniably made a wonderful photographic subject. Walking toward the water in her short skirt and white blouse (which, as she walked, she began unbuttoning), she looked waif-like and vulnerable.

She stood awhile holding her skirt up to bare her legs fully and letting the water wash over her ankles. I snapped several shots of her that were sexy without being too revealing. In one of my shots of her, though, her mostly unbuttoned blouse fell open and fully exposed one perfect-though-smaller-than-average breast. And in several of them her ass was partially on display.

After ten minutes or so of playing in the surf, she began walking back to where we'd laid out the blanket. I followed behind her snapping several photos. Eddie stood by the blanket waiting patiently for what, to him, would be the more interesting part of the shoot to begin.