It all happened a few years ago. My wife, Kathy and I had just come back from a two-week trip to the Mediterranean. The following weekend we went to our local shopping centre to get our holiday photos developed. There was a new camera shop that had just opened which offered a one hour service. We handed the film over to a young assistant behind the counter then spent the next two hours doing some shopping.
When we came back to the shop I asked Kathy to pick up our prints while I looked at the new cameras on display. I had been thinking of buying a new one for quite a while, so I thought I would check out what was on offer. The shop was fairly large with a number of aisles stocked with a variety of equipment. As I scanned the shelves I could hear my wife having a heated discussion with the man behind the counter.
When I peered around the aisle to see what was going on I saw that she was talking to a stout, middle-aged man, who appeared to be the manager. The kid who had taken our film must have been on his break. I figured that our film must have been lost or damaged and was about to go over and help my wife complain when I heard what was being said and realised it had nothing to do with the film.
"Oh come on darling," the manager said in a familiar voice. "I know it's you. I'd recognise those tits anywhere. As soon as I saw the prints I knew it was you. I guess it was ten years ago, but you haven't changed that much. You're still a sexy little thing. Slim with big tits. Always goes down well. We never got a better model after you left."
"Look," my wife said in a fierce whisper. "You've got me mixed up with someone else. My name isn't Sadie."
"Whatever. I didn't think that was your real name at the time anyway. Listen. I just moved the business up here a couple of months ago and I just started a new camera club the other week. I'll pay you well. I know you've got what it takes, and you don't mind doing a few extras when called for."
"How many times have I got to tell you? I don't know you. I've never done any modelling or anything like that and I've never even been to Brighton. Just give me my prints and let me go."
"Hey, hey," the man said. "Take it easy. Here you are. If you change your mind though, let me know. Come back anytime."
Kathy turned on her heels and walked out of the shop, not even waiting for me. I quickly made my way out and caught up with her. I grabbed her by the arm and she flinched suddenly, looking quite fearful until she turned and saw it was me. It was almost as if she had forgotten all about me.
"What was all that about?" I asked. "Why'd you run off like that?"
"Oh, Mike. Well, it was nothing really. That man back there. He thought I was someone else. Kept hassling me. I don't think we should go back there again. It was probably because of the topless photos of me on the beach. He's probably some kind of pervert."
"Maybe I should go back in there and sort him out."
"No!" Kathy shouted. "I mean, it's not worth it. Let's just forget about it."
"But what was all that stuff about modelling? And why'd you lie about never being in Brighton before? You grew up there."
"Look. He just thought I was some woman he used to know who worked as a model in Brighton. That's all. If I admitted that I used to live there he'd think he was right all along."
"So it definitely wasn't you then?"
"No, of course not," she said then refused to talk about it any more.
When we got home she poured herself a brandy and sat down on the couch. I sat beside her and put my arms around her. She soon relaxed and sighed, saying she had made too much of what had happened, that it was just some sleazy guy and she should have just ignored him.
I took out the holiday prints and looked through them. There were half a dozen I had taken of Kathy on the sand and in the sea. She was topless in all of them, her large, firm tits on display as she smiled at the camera. Looking at them now made my cock stir a little. Kathy was twenty-eight years old, with a very trim body, long black hair and deep brown eyes. We had been married for five years and I never got over how stunning she looked.
"Well," I said. "I can see how he'd mistake you for a model. You're so gorgeous."
"Thanks," she said. "But I think he was more interested in my body than my face."
"Yeah. Probably just a dirty old man. He wanted you to model naked for him, right?"
"Yeah. He said something about a camera club he was starting up."
"Do you think it was genuine?"
"I don't know. Probably not."
"I reckon you're right," I said. "The guy probably saw these photos and thought he'd try it on. Bit of an elaborate come-on though, wasn't it?"
"Yes, I guess so. Sort of thing he'd do anyway."
"How do you know?" I asked.
"What?"
"How do you know what sort of thing he'd do?"
"I meant he looked like the sort that would try something like that. Do we have to keep going on about this?" she said, flustered all of a sudden.
I hadn't felt overly suspicious before, but now I knew that something must be up. Maybe she had been lying. Maybe she really had done some modelling for him before. She had certainly lived in Brighton, and the guy seemed certain it was her. I decided to try to find out.
"I'm just going over to Gary's house," I said. "Borrow some tools."
"Okay," she said, giving me a strange look. "I'm going to sit here and have another drink."
I walked out to the car and drove as fast as I could to the shopping centre. The camera shop was just about to close when I got there. The young assistant had just walked out of the door and the manager was locking up.
"Sorry, we're closed," he said when he saw me. "Come back tomorrow, okay?"
"Wait a minute. I don't want to buy anything. I...It's about your camera club."
"Yeah? Where'd you hear about that?"
"Oh, a friend of a friend."
He looked me over quickly then asked me to come in and shut the door behind us.
"So, you want to join up then?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. "Well, I want to ask a few questions about it first. What goes on exactly?"
"You mean, do you get to do any more than just take photos? Is that it?"
"Yeah. Exactly."
"Depends on the model. Some girls go further than others, you know. Sometimes you can pay for extras."
"Extras?"
"Yeah. Today I was talking with one of the models who used to work for us a while back. Hopefully I'll get her to do some more. Now she used to do extras."
"Like what?" I asked, wondering if he meant Kathy.
"Well, she'd let the guys strip her clothes off for her, let them feel her up a little, her tits and ass, you know. Sometimes she'd let us jerk off all over her too."
"Really?" I asked, unable to believe he could mean my wife.
"Sure," he said, thinking I was being cynical about the whole thing. "Come over here. Let me show you something."
He led me into a back room and pulled out a photo album. I almost stopped breathing when I saw what it contained. There was page after page of my wife, aged about 18, in various stages of undress. Her hair was different and she did look very young, but it was most definitely her. So she had been lying about it after all. As I leafed through the album, every new pose was raunchier, more suggestive. She loved the camera and it loved her.
The last set of photos almost made me drop the album on the floor. Kathy was stark naked, kneeling on the floor while a small group of men stood around her, their cocks pointing at her face. There were cum stains in her hair, on her face, on her tits. She was covered in it. In all of the photos she was smiling at the camera, obviously enjoying herself. I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
"And she's going to model for you?" I asked, as soon as I had regained the power of speech.
"I hope so. She's a few years older now, but she's still got that slutty quality. You can tell. She was only a kid then. She'll probably do even more now. Anyway, even if she doesn't come back we've got loads of models lined up. You won't be disappointed. These days most members bring their video cameras. If you haven't got one we can rent you one on an hourly basis, or just a normal camera, it's up to you. So are you interested?"
"Yeah. Definitely."
"Okay. It's Β£100 a session. Sessions last anywhere between one and two hours. If the girl's up for more you'll have to pay her extra directly. The next session is on Friday evening. Here's the address," he said, handing me a small printed card.
I thanked him and walked out, heading for the nearest bar. I ordered a beer and sat alone, wanting to figure things out in my head. So she had really done it. I suppose I wouldn't have been too surprised to hear that she'd done some modelling. I remember her sister mentioning a couple of times that she had wanted to go into it. But this, this wasn't modelling at all. She had sat down naked in front of a camera, while a bunch of men jerked off all over her. The thought instantly struck me that maybe she had gone even further than that. Perhaps she had made a porn film or something. My cock was bursting inside my jeans as I thought about the possibilities.
I quickly made my way to the car, having decided to confront her. I wanted to know all about her past, everything that she had done. I parked in the driveway and rushed up to the door. Kathy was still sitting on the couch. She sighed when she saw the look on my face.
"You know, don't you?" she said. "You went back and talked to him. I knew you would. What did he tell you about me?"
She seemed surprisingly calm about it all, but then I suppose she had had the last hour to ready herself if she guessed where I had gone. Her voice was a little slurred and I realised that she had had a few more brandies since I left. She must have been trying to summon up the courage to face me knowing about her past.
"What's his name?" I asked.
"Barry, I think it was. I can't remember too clearly. It was more than ten years ago, Mike. Before we were married. I only did it for the money. I thought it would help me become a model."
"What? By letting all those men jerk off all over you?"
"Is that what he told you?"