Who Was the Photographer?

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

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Preamble:

This story may be read on its own, or as a continuation to Chapter 1. It is written to be complete in itself. Or, you may read this, and then read Chapter 1 as a prequel if this story so titillates you.

In Chapter 1, the mature husband (Julian) and wife (Julia) reviewed the wife's young days racy lingerie photos. Probing, the hubby discovered that the photographer was his wife's brother (Jude), who is now an accomplished professional photographer.

As the hubby desires a photo record of his well-preserved wife at her current 60 year old milestone, after overcoming initial apprehension, the couple agreed to have the bro do the shoot. They had dinner with the bro, and after a preliminary check out assessment, the shoot session was arranged.

As with Chapter 1, this is a banter-style teasing, titillating story. The action is light. If you are looking for bruising, torrenting, howling action by rippling triathletes, this is not for you.

***

Julia is alone at home. She finishes her bath. She is standing naked in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom. Posing this way and that, inspecting her body here and there. Posturing, preening, hunting down cellulite colonies, and mercifully finding none. Normally, she does this on her bare feet. But, today, on a whim, she feels moved to slip on her impossibly high fuck-me stilettos.

She hears her husband returning from work. He has been very busy this week, as he prepares to leave for his business trip tomorrow morning. A jackboot march of steps up the staircase in a rising crescendo.

Julia remains in her present state of unfettered nature. Her husband and she are accustomed to casual home nudity. There is only she and him living in the house.

Julian enters the room.

A lusty wolf whistle, "Nice! A sight to behold for sore eyes! Hmmm... what's with the heels?"

"Hi Darling! All set for your business trip?"

"Just about. I see you're all set too?"

"Huh?

Julian smirking, "I see you're all set too for my business trip."

It dawns on Julia that her husband is cheekily alluding to the scheduled photo shoot with her professional photographer bro, when he is away.

Oh well, two can play a teasing fantasy game. They do tease each other mercilessly. But, the taboo realm is a new incursion they have never explored before.

Julia in coy teasing tone, "Not quite yet. Husband, I need your wise counsel."

She twirls, spins down to face Julian. Perched totteringly on her high heels, she thrusts her pelvis.

"What do you think of my luxuriance?"

She teases more.

"I so want to be presentable to my bro. I want him to think well of me. I'm the big sister. I want to live up to his lofty expectations as a model sister."

She crouches on her stilettos facing him. Torso proudly upright. Her bosom full of fruit. The fruit hangs high.

"I've never seen your nipples this erect. This pink."

"I've never felt my breasts this full."

From her crouching position, she parts her legs a little, only just so, revealing her thatch, and a delicate outline of cleft.

Julia teasing, "Am I showing a wee too much? Or, not nearly enough?"

Indeterminable male noises.

She does not wait for his response. She stands up. Pivots her back to him. She keeps her legs straight together, body bent down impossibly low, like a ballerina. Her left hand grips her right ankle, to lockdown the pose. A tantalising exposé hint of delicate petal, a raw pink, slightly agape, but betraying nothing of her inner being.

"Hello? You're awfully quiet back there..."

She slides her legs apart while maintaining them straight. Grazes her right cheek against the side of her lower thigh, peering back coquettishly. Her left hand continues to grip her right ankle to lockdown her pose.

Conspiratorially, in a low husky voice, "Should I mow the lawn completely?"

"Well, we did tell your bro that we'll give him the artistic license to plan the shoot, didn't we?"

"Ah yes! He told me that he would specifically like a mini series of close-up studies, with varying degrees of cover."

"Close-up studies?"

"Yes. An intimate study, rendered in black and white, for artistic effect."

"Oh?"

"You know... the aesthetic muddle of renditions. Noir. Boudoir."

"Varying degrees of cover?"

"I'm not really sure what Jude has in mind. He told me not to do any feminine housekeeping just yet."

"Oh?"

"You know what these highfalutin artistic types are like. They can be annoyingly pedantic about things."

"Varying degrees of cover, huh?"

"I think he means shoot, snip a little off here and there, shoot, thin out a bit, shoot. A mundane iterative process. At least, this is what I think. To what end, I'm not sure."

Julian processes this. He twitches imagining what the sibling collaboration in the hirsute maintenance might be. And to what end?

Julian conceding, "Hmmm... We did commit to giving him artistic license."

"Did Jude give you any other prep instructions."

Somewhat hesitantly, "Hmmm... I'd rather not say. I'd rather not have spoilers ahead. The photo portfolio will be my, or rather, our, gift to you. Preserve the surprise element."

In a kind of hypnotic trance, Julian strips in a flurry, guides, almost shoves Julia to the wall. He presses her hard against the wall. Her back chaffs against the raw sandstone, hurting a little.

He extends her arms horizontally out in a crucifixion configuration. His hands pin down her palms to lock her down. She is nailed. She is not sure whether to be cross with him, or be grateful to him for her rising excitement.

Julia is intrigued. And a little frightened. Her husband has never been like this. Possessed. Is there some religious symbolism to this?

He nuzzles his rockhard shaft at the moist confluence of her lower mound and upper thighs in a sawing dry hump motion.

She clenches.

He thrusts.

She releases.

Clench.

Thrust.

Release.

Clench.

Thrust.

Release.

As she tightens her clenched thighs with renewed determination, her husband intensifies his pistoning motion to breach the seal.

And in an epiphany of heated invention, as she clenches and releases, she simultaneously rocks her hips side to side as well, adding another dimension to the tension and torque. This sends Julian to the far edge.

Animistic pagan growls and howls. Can their neighbours hear them? His perseverance pays off. He gets in, by dint of forceful persistence.

Suddenly, Julian grabs her hips more firmly and begins driving hard into her with new vigour.

Julia sucks all the air in the room. Julian is gasping.

Julia climaxes.

The stampeding beast inside Julia that had raged, has come to a standstill, and is now watching everything around with new wonder.

Julian continues to slam into her until a minute after she climbs down. He grunts as he pulls out from between her legs.

He draws a sharp inhalation creating perfect concavities of cheekbone. He erupts.

Julian turns Julia around. She is facing the wall. After a respite, Julian starts rubbing his penis in the crack of her buttocks, while squeezing her cheeks against his penis. She reaches around backward, and runs her fingers over his manhood head as he strokes. He continues to stroke and covers much of her back with his second wave of release.

She continues to milk him as he begins to slow his thick flow. A puddle forms between his penis head, her buttocks, and her hand. The blend of scent can be described as pleasantly piquant.

She finally lets go of his shaft. He leans forward enough to help her straighten up.

He hugs her. Nuzzles her neck. She feels the bakery warmth of his chest as she luxuriates in his body. She shivers in that warmth.

***

Julian's eyes flicker open.

His cellphone at the bedside reads 5am. He must be at the airport in two hours. He does not wish to wake Julia. Let the beauty continue her beauty sleep.

He kisses her lips lightly. He instinctively lifts a corner of the quilt. She sleeps in the buff.

He admires her form awhile. She has that sensual genius to give the charm of novelty to her body each time he sees her nude. How precisely she does this, he will never know.

He admires her substance now. Her bottom. A sort of tamed wilderness. He kind of knows that the next time he sees it again, it will be different. Same, and yet different. A reset. Reforestation. And with that, will she still be the same Julia?

Instinctively, he picks up his cellphone, and takes a photo as if to capture a private memento that will be no more.

A resounding click. Oops! Julia shifts a little. But, she does not rouse.

Julian draws near her most intimate. Is that a glisten of dew on petal lip?

Her scent can be described as divine. And yet, slightly suspect, like everything intimate that smells really good. A whiff is all he can handle. To inhale a more concentrated dose is too much. And yet, he wishes he can bottle a bit of this scent, and lock it away.

He kisses her lightly there. It rouses her momentarily a bit.

He thinks he hears her sigh "Ju", or maybe "Ju...". Or, something like that. He is not sure if that was it, or there was a muffled second syllable. What cannot be said is dreamed. He will never know.

***

To be continued.