Tell Me What to Do

"Do you see that?"

"Yes, I do," my husband, Alan, said.

"I wonder why she does that."

"To draw attention to herself," he said.

"Well, she's doing that for sure. She got your attention, buddy."

"Maybe she likes it," he said.

"How could you...wait, do see that? That guy's fondling her breast!" I said.

"Seems she likes that a lot. How about you, honey? Would you like some guy feeling you up in public?"

"Alan! How can you even think that?!" I stuck my tongue out at him and turned back to the woman standing under the patio cover next to the pool. I didn't know her, but then I didn't know half the people at this party that a local attorney was having at his home. Her daring had attracted three men, but only one was grabbing the goods. My husband kept glancing to where she stood. She looked up at him and smiled and then turned her attention back to her three admirers.

"So, big boy," I said. "What if that was me? Would you like me displaying myself like that?"

"Well...," he said, drawing out the word. Then, he grabbed my hand. "Let's go talk to Bill and Carol over there." Off we went, just as the woman was kissing one of the men on his cheek.

Later, as we snuggled in bed, I whispered in Alan's ear. "You didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"Would you like seeing me acting out in public like that woman at the party?"

"That's not you, Annie," he said.

"I know, but would you?"

"Years ago, before I met you, I went out with a woman for a while and she was like that. She loved to show off. She loved to flaunt her body, always safely, mind you, but she got off on flashing some skin and being overtly sexual."

"Did you like that?"

"Actually, I did. It was a turn on. She even had me suggest something for her to do once in public and it was a rush to see her do what I told her to do. Later, I learned that a fair number of guys like to show off the woman they're with. Sometimes, the woman ends up completely nude in a public setting."

"Are you sad that I don't do that?"

"No, Annie, of course not!" You're really sexy to me just as you are." It was the right thing for him to say. I kissed him deeply, and that was the start of an intense, sweaty, erotic round of sex.

When I returned from a five-day research conference in Atlanta, I was looking forward to a long weekend before going back into the lab. Alan had reservations at a small Italian restaurant that we'd been going to for years and, afterwards, we enjoyed some slow jazz at an adjoining club. It was a wonderful, romantic evening, after being apart for some days. The next morning, I was tending to some house plants when Alan walked in.

"Now there's a sight," he said. "Just stand there and don't move." I did as he asked. He pulled out his phone and took a photo of me holding a potted succulent. I smiled as he took another. Then he walked up to me and unbuttoned my shirt so that my gray sports bra was showing. He backed up and snapped another shot.

"What are you doing?" I said, laughing.

"I'm starting a series called 'The Sexy Potter,'" he said, taking one more shot.

"And what are you going to do with your series?"

"I'm going to publish an art book," he said.

"Oh yeah you are," I said. "You're going to publish photos of your sexy wife?"

"Of course," he said. "It'll be a best-seller on Amazon! Now, put down the plant and lose your shirt."

"What?!"

He waited, silently, looking at me. I stared back.

"Well?" he said.

"I don't think so, Alan." He got that sad dog look on his face, but then he smiled that sweet, seductive smile.

"I want you to, Annie."

"I can't Alan. I don't feel comfortable having my picture taken like that. I'm not like that woman at the party that you kept looking at."

"Are you sure, Annie?" he said, still smiling seductively.

"I'm sure."

"How about this?" he said. "You think about it and, in a couple of days, we'll talk again. Deal?"

"I'm not going to change my mind, okay? But I'll think about it," I said.

"Excellent," he said, as he put his phone away. "I look forward to it."

This wasn't like Alan. I was taken aback a little, but I didn't say anything. The thought of those kinds of pictures of me on his phone or his digital camera made me feel uncomfortable. I know he thinks I'm sexy, but that's just between him and me. Maybe that woman at the party sparked something in him. I needed to talk this out, but I decided to wait the couple days we agreed on.

It's strange, but the image of me posing for my husband cropped up in my mind a lot as I worked in the lab or did other things. Why would a woman do that? Was it a turn on? Was it deviant? How come I didn't feel the need to do it? What if Alan persisted? Why would he? Did it turn him on?

We both got home from work at the same time. Chinese take-out sounded good and, after a tasty dinner, I broached the subject that had intrigued me.

"Let's get back to you and your best-seller," I said. Alan put down his Tsingtao. "I have to admit that this whole thing has occupied more of my thinking than I expected. What's gotten into you, wanting to show off your wife in some sexy pictures?" He looked at me with the hint of a smile.

"Like I said before, it's a turn-on for me. Can I live without it? Of course. But I sensed a little interest on your part when we first talked about the woman at the party."

"But, I told you, that's not me. You even said that. The other day, I said that I felt uncomfortable."

"So, since then, have you imagined what it would be like to show yourself?"

"I won't lie. I did picture it in my mind. I was trying to figure out why people do it. What are they feeling when they do it."

"How were you feeling? Did the thought excite you? Did it feel good knowing that people were looking at you in an intimate moment, that they were getting turned on by looking at you?"

"It was so strange. I was, no, I am conflicted about it. I mean, I'm really conservative when it comes to that and, yet, I can see how it might be a turn-on for some people."

"I love you so much, Annie. I appreciate that you're willing to talk about this. And you know that I would never do anything to harm you or our relationship." He paused. It seemed he was searching for the right words.

"I know you want to say something, so out with it," I said, as I touched his arm.

"Let's be a little adventurous tonight. Let's try something and, as we're doing it, let's talk about how we're feeling," he said.

"What do you want to do?"

"I want to take some pictures of you with my camera. I want you to follow my directions. When we're done, you get the memory card to do with it what you want. But, while we're doing it, I want us to talk honestly. What do you think?"

"An experiment in candor," I said.

"Exactly."

"And if I don't want to do the experiment?"

"Then, that's it," he said. "Finito. No pressure from me, and I'll never bring it up again." I didn't say anything. I just kept stroking his arm, looking at his face.

"The researcher in me is intrigued," I said. "But, as you know, it's always bad form to use yourself as a test object. However, there's no way around that if we were to proceed." I hesitated, conflicting feelings swirling in my mind.

"Do you want to proceed?"

Before I could think some more, I just said, "Yes. Let's do it." Alan pressed his hand to mine and smiled. He leaned in to kiss me. "We'd better start or I might change my mind."

"I'll get my camera and meet you in the living room," he said. I did a quick bathroom stop and, then, found him sitting in his favorite chair, waiting for me.

"So, how do you want me to..."

"Just stand there like that," he said. He took a shot. "Put your hands on your hips." Another shot. "Okay, walk over to the bookcase and lean back into it." He took two shots from different angles.

"This is easy," I said.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm not feeling much," I said.

"Unbutton your blouse."

"Now I'm feeling something," I said. "I feel awkward. I can feel my defenses popping up. What are you feeling?"

"Like I've taken the first step in establishing control of the situation," he said. "Please, unbutton your blouse." I fought the impulse to end it right there. I reached for the first button and Alan took another shot. I kept going, and so did he, until my blouse hung open, revealing my pale blue bra. He motioned me to move to the center of the room where he circled me silently.

"Well?" I said.

"That was a good start," he said. "Now, take off your shirt." I'd done that countless times in front of him. This felt different. He watched me, but took no photos. I threw my shirt on the sofa. "Look at me," he said. Then he lifted the camera to his eye and pressed the shutter button.

"I feel embarrassed," I said.

"Why's that?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's my upbringing. My parents didn't show their bodies. They're modest people."

"But you show your beautiful body to me."

"In private," I said. "This doesn't seem so private. What you're seeing of me is also on the memory card and, potentially, others could see me like this."

"Would it be so bad if others saw your beauty, too?"

There it was. The central question. The reason for all of this. Was I willing to let my husband show me off. "I don't know," I said, surprising myself with the answer.

"Take off your pants."

I looked at him. His face is beautiful. I put my hands on my waistband, unsure if I could continue. He watched me. Silence. He looked me up and down. I slid my pants off my hips. I didn't stop. He raised his camera. I kept going until I was standing there, facing him, in only my bra and panties.

"I feel very exposed," I said. He took another picture.

"Turn around," he said and, when I did, he took more shots. "Let me see a bit of your ass, Annie." I hesitated at this next line to cross.

"I don't know, Alan. I never thought I'd go even this far."

"But, you have," he said. "And I think you can go farther."

I pushed myself to let go of my inhibitions a bit more. What's the harm, I thought. Why am I afraid? It's Alan, behind me. Alan, my husband, my lover. I pulled my panties half way down my backside.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I said, as I heard the shutter click. "I'm doing this."

"Yes, you are, and you look so beautiful," he said. A thrill ran through me. This was turning me on! I looked back at him and put my hands on my hips. "What a smile!" he said, as he snapped more photos. I wiggled my behind at him.

"I have to admit that I seem to have turned a corner," I said. He asked me to face him.

"How does it feel?" he asked.

"It feels naughty," I said. "Truth be told, it's thrilling."

"Well, then, you should get rid of your bra."

This time, there was no hesitation. But I did tease him, as I played to his camera. I turned my back to him, unhooked my bra, and let it fall to the floor. When I faced him, my hands covered my breasts and my hardening nipples. He pleaded with me to drop my hands. I rubbed my breasts and slowly let go. I pushed my chest toward his lens. More pictures. More smiles.

"Is this turning you on, Alan? Is this what you want? Are you getting hard?" He put down the camera and embraced me. Yes, he was hard. We kissed. He fondled my breasts and then he backed away.

"Off with your panties," he commanded. I obeyed and watched him watching me, photographing me. He kept at it for another five minutes, directing me to pose in various ways. When he had enough images, he said it was time to stop. But he didn't want me to get dressed. I remained nude and, except for when he used his mouth to get me off, he kept his distance so that he could look at all of me.

"This is yours," he said, handing me the memory card. I took it and placed it by my clothes. "Well, how do you assess our experiment in candor?"

"There's a lot to process," I said. "Clearly, I feel different from how I thought I'd feel."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm standing here naked and you've got all your clothes on. I feel very exposed, like I'm on display for you, even though you've seen me like this so much. I feel vulnerable, but protected at the same time. I thought I'd just feel very uncomfortable, but I don't feel that way at all."

"Is that good?" he asked.

"I don't know. I guess so. But there's more."

"What?"

"It's a little embarrassing. I mean, I feel a little embarrassed to be baring myself to you like this, even though we've been fucking for years. I can't figure out why I have this feeling. And, I have to admit, I'm turned on. I can't believe it, but the embarrassment, the exposure, makes me horny."

"That's good, isn't it?" he asked.

"Is it? I mean, what if I want this thrill again? I can't do it elsewhere. It's like a forbidden desire that I've tasted but can't taste again."

"Do you want to, as you say, 'taste it, again?'"

"God, Alan! I don't know! I can feel my inhibitions rising up, even as I'm standing here naked talking about the thrill of it all. I'd better get dressed." He watched me put my clothes back on. Then he kissed me slowly and passionately. His cock grew hard against my mound.

"Would you like to do it again?" he said. I wasn't sure what 'it' meant. I needed a break to gather my thoughts. I picked up the memory card.

"I'm going to my office," I said. "I need to look at something." He smiled.

"I won't disturb you," he said. "Enjoy."

My fingers shook as I put the card into the reader. Alan's a good amateur photographer and the first images of me were very nice, like many he has taken over the years. The next photos showed me unbuttoning my blouse. Then, the photo of me with my open blouse appeared on the screen. It wasn't anything very revealing, but I studied it carefully. It was like I was looking at another person. I could never do that. But, in fact, I did do that. I did let him take a picture of me with my pale blue bra showing prominently.

I got up from my desk and paced the room. I knew what else was on the card. I was about to relive my exposure, to see it with Alan's eyes. The experiment in candor wasn't over yet.

The image on my computer screen was sharp. I looked at it again. My bra is plainly visible. In the next photo, I'm standing there with no shirt on. Then, in a series of five photos, I'm taking off my pants. I looked at the image of me in just a bra and panties. I remember feeling very exposed, even though my private parts were covered. And then I crossed the line. With my back to Alan, I pulled my panties half the way down my ass.

Again, I paused and just looked at me exposing myself, at least part of myself. I remember the thrill. I remember telling Alan how I felt, and him telling me to lose my bra. And there I am, thrusting my bare breasts at him, rubbing my hard nipples, enticing him with a wicked smile. Seeing these pictures for the first time was turning me on.

The final images, where I was totally nude, were too much. I reached into my pants. It didn't take long before I came hard. My pussy was very wet. I slumped back in my chair, knowing that an important part of my life was changing. What I didn't know was how to wrap my mind around the change and the consequences. I hoped that Alan could help.

I kept the images on my computer in a private folder. I asked Alan to erase the memory card which he did in my presence. I didn't tell him what I'd left on my hard drive; I wasn't sure where this was all going. On the weekend, he asked me straight away.

"So, where are we with our little experiment?" he said, as he sorted some clothes in the laundry.

"Conflicted," I said. "The experience was profound. Somehow, I know I've changed, but I can't figure out how. It was thrilling, it was exciting, and it was embarrassing. I still feel all of those things. I just don't know if I can do something like that again. You know, those old inhibitions creeping into my consciousness. What about you?"

"I liked it. Watching you exposed like that, watching you deal with mixed emotions, seeing you get turned on, it was great. I think we're good playing that game, me directing you, you doing what I tell you to do, even if it embarrasses you."

"Thank you for being honest about how you feel. I could see that you liked it." I paused. "Would you be mad at me if we never did it again?"

"Oh, Annie, of course not! I love you! I would never do that. But, I have to say that I think you would end up enjoying it, if you did it again."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I saw you, I saw how the experience overtook you and wiped away your inhibitions, at least for that moment."

Alan was right, and I saw it, too, when I looked at the pictures of me. "You think that's true?" I asked.

"I do. I know you well enough."

"So, what do you propose?" I said, knowing that I was opening the door to another adventure. He smiled and, I believe, he was caught a bit off guard by my question.

"Let me think about it," he said, and I'll get back to you."

Two weeks passed by and Alan hadn't said anything about doing another experiment. I was aware how the thought of being exposed intruded my waking hours. It was distracting and it was exciting and, once again, I became unsure about going through with whatever he came up with.

"You never told me what you thought about the pictures I took of you," he said, as we were walking in the park at twilight.

"They were good," I said. "Actually, they were better than good. They were revealing, in that I saw something different about me."

"Too bad you didn't keep them," he said.

"Ah, but I did. When I first looked at them that night, I got turned on again. Can you believe that?"

"I can," he said. "You're a very sexy woman."

"I knew something had changed in me, but I wasn't sure what. I still don't know."

"If you'll allow me, I'd like to take some of those images and post them on the photography site I'm part of. I'll crop your face out so no one will know it's you. But you'll know it's you and you can see how people respond to your body."

We stopped walking and I faced Alan under a lamp post. "If you put them on that site, they'll be in the wild of the internet forever. Anyone will be able to see me."

"That's the point. I want people to see you."

There it was. The essence of the experiment. Was Alan's desire to show me off matched by my nascent need to be seen? Was the change in me, the change I struggled to identify, a budding desire to have my husband display me in a sensual or sexual way to the world?

"Do you want people to see me naked?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to control how that happens?"

"Yes."

"Do you want me to do this even if I might be embarrassed?"

"Yes."

"What if I come to like it, even though I continue to be embarrassed?"

"What's wrong with that?"

He reached for my hand and brought it to his lips. He sucked on my fingers and softly grazed my breast.

"I'll give you the photos," I said. "Do whatever you want with them. I trust you."

Two days later, Alan posted some of the images of me. He called it "The Shy Woman" series and, I have to admit, he did an excellent job in post-production. The pictures were ordered to show my increasing state of nudity. Some were in black and white. All together, they were pretty sexy. It didn't take long for other photographers and viewers of the site to offer their comments.

"Great job depicting the theme of shy nudity," one said. "You capture the sensuous beauty of your model," said another. "These are very sexy in a non-pornographic way. Well done!" In all, there were 49 comments on the first day and they kept coming in over the next week. Alan kept saying how much he appreciated me letting him post the pictures. He also kept asking me how I was feeling about people seeing my nude body on their screens.