I saw a survey the other day which stated that the vibrator was the number one sex toy. I don't think it is; for me the camera is the number one sex toy.
I say that not because of the digital age we live in now (where every mobile phone includes a camera), but because of what happened to me in November 1987. Back then I was 26 and had been married to Paul for 6 years.
Earlier that year Paul had rather hesitantly asked me if I would be willing to pose for some photos for him. I was very dubious, assuming that he was simply copying a friend of ours, Mark, who had persuaded at least one of his girlfriends to undress and pose for him. Paul said that wasn't the case and he'd been wanting to photograph me for a while.
I reluctantly agreed and a week later I sat by our dressing table finishing my make-up. I'd insisted that he waited downstairs while I prepared myself. For that first session I wore a metallic green blouse, a black skirt which went to below my knee and black underwear including stockings and suspenders.
Although I'd been reluctant to do it I must admit I got a bit of a buzz from posing like this. I should add that I'm a rather conservative, modest person, so blatantly displaying my charms in a way that was "wrong" seemed very daring.
Paul took photos of me in various stages of undress including some explicit full frontal shots and by the end of the session we were both highly aroused and had very intense sex.
Rather naively I assumed this sort of photography was something that few other couples indulged in; perhaps understandably because I'd never seen any of the men's magazines with their pages of photos of Readers Wives (though I should stress that no photos of me were ever submitted for publication!).
So I got a bit of surprise when a work colleague Carole casually mentioned that she sometimes posed for photos for her husband Rob. I got on very well with Carole and we occasionally went out for a quiet drink at a local pub and once a month went out for a meal as a foursome with our husbands.
Carole's a bit more extrovert than I am and she didn't seem to see anything out of the ordinary in their photo sessions. We ended up having quite a giggle about it and it was oddly arousing having Carole tell me that the sessions always gave Rob a hard-on "like an iron bar".
In fact I was still fired up when I got home and as soon as I mentioned Rob and Carole's photo sessions Paul wanted to know more. I told him about the peach coloured French knickers which Carole had worn for their last session and we ended up fucking like a couple of randy rabbits.
I didn't think too much more about it, but a month or so later we all went to see a show in London and spent a night at a hotel afterwards. It wasn't a show the men were interested in seeing and we'd had a bit of a job talking them into taking us. One of the incentives we'd offered them was that in return if there was something they wanted to do then we'd be agreeable; little did we realise what they'd suggest.
We were sat in the hotel bar after the show and Rob asked whether we were still OK with them choosing something to do. Of course we both said yes.
"Good," said Rob. "Because Paul and I have been chatting and we want to do a joint photo session."
I think it's fair to say that caught us out. Rather hesitantly I asked them to explain what they meant because I couldn't believe that they were expecting me to undress with Rob watching and Carole to undress with Paul watching. But that was exactly what they had in mind. And they didn't just want to watch us, they wanted to take photos!
I immediately said no and Carole agreed with me. They wouldn't accept that and tried to convince us that it wasn't the big deal we seemed to think it was. We discussed it on and off for a while and didn't really make any progress and then I said I was going to the loo. Carole went with me and inevitably we had a chat once we were out of earshot.
Carole said they seemed dead set on it and suggested a compromise. She pointed out that we had both gone topless on holiday, so it wouldn't really be a big step if we allowed them to take topless photos of us. She emphasised that we weren't going to take our knickers off and if the men couldn't accept that then there was no deal.
I could see the logic in that and rather reluctantly I agreed to an offer of top half only. So we returned to the bar and put our proposal to the boys. They tried to talk us into removing our knickers as well, but we made it clear that was not negotiable. Eventually, with a shrug of their shoulders, they agreed and a date was set for a fortnight's time. We decided we'd go out for a drink beforehand, Carole commented that we'd probably need one to calm our nerves.
When the date arrived I decided to wear my red skirt and best white blouse, but under the blouse Paul got me to wear a red cleavage enhancing bra. I wasn't keen on the red bra, because I think a coloured bra under a white blouse is tacky, but Paul thinks it's sexy and with a bit of persuasion I agreed to it. He'd also bought me some rather classy black stockings and a nice new suspender belt.
About an hour before we were due to be picked up by Robert and Carole the phone rang. I answered and it was Carole. She was worried that her dress was too revealing so she didn't want to go out for a drink in a pub beforehand. I suggested we had a drink here instead and she was happy with that.
At eight o'clock the doorbell rang and Paul and I went to greet them. I must admit my main interest was seeing what Carole was wearing.
Her dress was definitely eye-catching by our standards. It was a halterneck and it was instantly obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra because it gaped very easily. Carole told me she'd bought it a while ago, but hadn't realised just how revealing it was and had never had the courage to wear it, and was still half-regretting the fact that Rob had talked her into wearing it tonight.
Paul had poured some wine for us and I noticed that he'd been quite liberal with the measures. I suspect that Carole and I drank more than we would have done in a pub; I know I felt very nervous and I'm sure Carole did as well.
At first the conversation was rather stilted, I think we were all very conscious of the forthcoming main event, but after a while, and doubtless helped by the wine, we started to relax. I could see that Carole had lost some of her self-consciousness about her dress, though I could also see that Paul was enjoying several tantalising glimpses of her boobs.
For my part I undid a couple more buttons than usual so I was displaying quite a bit of cleavage (I'm a 36D compared to Carole's 34C).
There was no rush because we had the whole evening, but when the clock struck ten Paul suggested it was time to take some photos. My nerves returned and that wasn't all, I could feel a definite moist arousal between my legs.
I should explain that I was a virgin when I met Paul and I've always been faithful to him (and I believe he has to me). Prior to Paul there had been a couple of boys (you couldn't call them men) who'd got their hands inside my knickers, but sexually I wasn't very experienced. So I suppose exposing my breasts to another man was quite a big event for me.
The first shots were completely tame – just ones of Carole and I sat on the settee. Then there were a few where you could see our stocking tops. Slowly we revealed more until our knickers came into full view. I blushed when Rob complimented me on the lovely red colour of mine.
They then took some side on shots of Carole stood with her palms flat against the wall. Her naturally revealing dress didn't need much adjustment so that most of her breasts were visible. I was surprised just how attractive and sexy she looked - it's not as if we're professional models. Both the men were fussing round her and it was clear that Paul liked what he saw and that Carole was rather enjoying showing him it.
I would have expected to feel a bit jealous, but I didn't; the fact that Carole was so relaxed helped to calm the nerves I was still feeling.
They soon turned back to me and Paul asked me to unbutton my blouse. They took various shots with my bra on display and I was manoeveured into positions which enhanced my cleavage. The next request was for me to take my bra off and I managed to slip it off without removing my blouse (a bit awkward but not really too difficult). That preserved my modesty for a little longer, but of course the moment soon came when I had to ease my blouse back on my shoulders so that my breasts were on full display.
I hope it doesn't sound vain but I'm secretly quite proud of my breasts. They're 36D and have very full, dark aureoles which Paul says makes them look very suckable. So even though I had some misgivings about letting Rob see them, there was a part of me which was happy to show them off.
It did however feel very different from being on a beach with lots of other topless women present. The damp feeling between my legs was becoming more pronounced, not least because of the appreciative looks I was getting from Robert. It was a completely novel situation and I felt out of my depth.