I Wish My Wife Was This Dirty

Anita's story

I woke up the next morning to the sound of the shower. The fog cleared from my brain and the delicious events of the previous evening swam into my mind. A bashful bath-robed Anita appeared from the bathroom and began to speak

"I... I don't know quite what..."

"I don't know either" I interrupted, "but it was wonderful."

We smiled at each other.

"Perhaps it might be better if there was no explanation, for now."

"OK" Anita replied "but I want to, I just don't know where to begin at the moment."

So we left it that and with some awkwardness returned to the real world. Later on that afternoon, once we got home, my wife said that she wanted to explain, but couldn't find the words to do her feelings justice. And anyway the idea of talking so candidly didn't come easily, so she said she'd try to write it all down.

"Sounds good to me, I look forward to it."

A couple of weeks later, and after some renewed bouts of passion, although nothing quite so brazen as what took place in that hotel room, one morning Anita shyly passed me a memory stick and left for her volunteering job in a local charity shop. Over a coffee, this is what I read:

I really don't know where to start. I could say that I don't know what came over me, but that would not be true. I should probably start at the beginning. It's all Zoe's fault.

That week when you were on your last golf trip with your mates, Zoe and I were sorting through some boxes of books that had been left at the shop, when I found several dirty mags, as we used call them. Taken aback, I called out

"Urgh! Hey, Zoe, look what's been left in with these books."

She came over to see.

"Someone has not been very careful with their sorting out, have they? Let's have a look."

and she started flipping through.

"Hmm, 1980's and 90's. I wonder I'm in any of them?"

"What?! Seriously?!" I gasped.

You don't know Zoe, she's quite new at the shop and for the last few weeks I've started to share some of my shifts with her. She has the appearance of the sort of girl someone might derogatively call a brassy blonde. But she's not like that stereotype at all, she is very bright, has a great sense of humour and is really friendly with the public. I've found myself looking forward to spending a morning or afternoon working with her. When she's in the shop it is a happier place and we seem to get more male customers for some reason! You have not met her, but I expect that you'll be interested in her looks - don't deny it, I've seen how you eye all the women! Zoe is early fifties, but looks ten years younger. She's got a nice figure, and shows it off well, but in a classy way. Her husband sadly died a year or so ago.

"Fiesta? I don't think I did anything for them, I worked mostly with photographers for Men Only or escort."

Zoe hastily put the ageing well-thumbed magazine under the counter as a pair of students entered the shop. This gave me time to gather my thoughts. How could any self-respecting woman pose half-naked or worse for the gratification of dirty old men?! After the students had left Zoe eyed me

"Are you shocked?"

"Well, perhaps you were hard-up at the time..." I began.

She laughed "Not at all. I did it because I enjoyed it, still do!"

My eyes widened.

"Look, some women think stripping off and posing for the camera is just being exploited by men. I see it the other way round. I'm an out-going person, always been pretty confident of my body and, yes, I made some money out of it, but I actually liked the idea that I could make some lonely chap happy for an hour or so. If anything, it was me who was exploiting the men. I'll admit that only a fraction of the money being made from what went on between the camera and the magazine on the top shelf found its way to me, but that's just how normal business works. Nowadays, with the Internet, that middle man can be by-passed, and the relationship is much more direct between the producer and the consumer."

I gaped at her.

"I must sound like an after-the-nine o'clock threshold version of the Money Programme. I'm sorry if I've shocked you, Anita, I really am, but it is something I feel passionately about."

"No, no, not at all. I had no idea you, er... Not that there's anything wrong with... Sorry, it's just taken me a bit by surprise." I gabbled.

"I'll make a cup of tea" she smiled.

After shutting up the shop at lunchtime as it was early-closing, we lingered in the back and chatted some more about a world I had absolutely no experience of. She said she had been running her own website for several years, and enjoyed chatting with her online friends, and showing herself to them. It was intriguing, seeing her eyes light up, talking about how empowered she felt in front of the camera, bringing, as she put it, relief and happiness to men and women. She was almost evangelical.

"Well Anita, you are asking plenty of questions here!"

she said, as we made to go our separate ways,

"I've actually got a photo shoot arranged for later this afternoon with a girl-friend. She's a lady photographer - she's really nice. As your husband is away and if you have nothing else on, why don't you come along to see what goes on for yourself? It'll be fun!"

I quickly shook my head and said that really I couldn't see myself being comfortable in that environment, but thanked her for asking.

I got home to our empty house, and could not get our conversation out of my mind, nor the pics of Zoe that she had showed me on her phone, some from years ago, and others clearly that were quite recent. I mooched around the house, had a snack, did some washing. The image of Zoe, barely clothed in front of a camera, and the thought of hundreds of men rubbing their cocks over her pictures would not leave my mind. I happened to be leaning over the washing machine to reach into the cupboard... it was during the spin cycle... the top of my legs pressed against the vibration, and within seconds a pleasant tingle became a shock wave that blasted through my body as I involuntarily pressed my pubic bone against the washing machine. I was gripping the work top and gasping for breath. On reflection, it must have been the re-ignition of a pent-up sexual tension, of how many years?, that had burst through.

The next thing I know I was upstairs slowly undressing. I stood in front of the full-length mirror in our bedroom inspecting myself. This plain bra and knickers set would have to go. Rifling through my underwear drawer I found at the bottom a long-forgotten flimsy thong and suspender belt. The matching bra was nowhere to be seen, but perhaps I still had some stockings tucked away. Yes here they were, not worn for twenty years or more, probably. I took some delicious time in gliding the sheer stockings up my legs and over my thighs. My shaking fingers struggled with the hooks on the suspenders, and then smoothed the tiny triangle of lace over my by-now throbbing pubic mound. I sat at the dressing table and brushed my hair. All the while I thought of what this must this feel like with a camera clicking away with every move? The final addition was a pair of high heels, which I noticed in her photos, that Zoe informed me was de rigeur for all models when they are on their feet, and, she added with a smirk, on their backs!

I stood in front of the mirror again - topless, stockings, thong and suspenders. I wiggled my hips this way and that, turned and looked over my shoulder to appraise my bum. Not bad if I say so myself - the years in the gym had not been without reward. I was still shaking with a re-awaken sexual excitement that I had not felt for years. What to do? Even if you were at home I doubt if I could have initiated anything, such was the state our relationship had got into. I was sure that I still loved you, but I suppose it was a case of what they say about the spark having gone out.

What the hell! I had nothing to lose by just watching my friend Zoe pose for a few photographs. Trembling, I sent her a text to ask if her offer was still on. Five minutes later she replied

"Great! So pleased you have changed you mind. I'll pick you up at 4."

I looked at myself in the mirror and shook my head - "What are you doing, you silly woman?" What was I going to wear? Certainly not this slutty outfit, I decided, as my confidence wavered again.

Zoe arrived in a flurry of excitement dressed in Jeans and T-shirt and bundled me into the car. I had chosen a strappy cerise top, white capris and flat sandals. She said that the evening light at this time of year in her friend's conservatory was exactly what she wanted. Zoe warned me about what to expect, and what she intended to be doing. She was concerned about shocking me. She said she wanted to do a quick photo session in an outfit one of her friends had requested, a JOI video, which she explained when she saw the blank look on my face, was basically a striptease, with the performer acknowledging that that the viewer was going to be masturbating when they watched the video. I nodded, trying to work out what JOI stood for. I remember wondering if you knew what JOI meant. I was being immersed into a world of twenty-first century online sex that I didn't really know existed, so wrapped up I had been for the last 25 years in family and work. I asked about this friend of Zoe's. It turns out that Beth and her husband Paul had a photographic business. They lived in a village ten miles away. Zoe had known them for years, and said that they were also active themselves in this secret online world. We arrived and Beth welcomed us in, in shorts and, I immediately noticed, a bra-less vest.

"Come in, Zoe told me she was bringing a friend, so nice to meet you Anita. Let's go through to the back."

Beth was probably in her late-forties, pretty face, dark hair tied at the back, and a figure that was in not much better shape than mine, I appraised, as women tend to do. We all appeared to be just about keeping on top in our own ongoing battles with cellulite!

Zoe disappeared to do whatever it was she needed to do to get ready. Beth poured me a glass of wine, and whilst Zoe was preparing Beth explained how she had worked with Zoe like this for several years, and it was so nice that a friend was open-minded enough to come along and observe. I said I had worked in the promotions field long ago in the past, so was used to the process, and was happy to hold a light reflector for her if she needed it. Beth seemed delighted by my offer and interest and she rose from the sofa as a few minutes later Zoe tottered into the conservatory in red high heels and a bathrobe.

"OK, let's go for it." Beth said as she made final adjustments to her camera.

Zoe smiled for her as she slipped the bathrobe from her shoulders. I caught my breath as I saw what was revealed. Zoe wore nothing but a sexy red teddy. She posed facing Beth with her hand on her hips, wiggled her hips, bent forward and pouted at the camera. All the while Beth snapped away. Zoe turned sideways and arched her back to project her shapely legs and bum. Then turning to the window presented her rear view. From this angle the only item of what you could barely call clothing was a thin stand of lacy thong which emerged from her bum. Halfway up her back this split into four, as two stands went over each shoulder and the other two around to the semi-circular whalebone supports under her breasts. With her feet together she slowly bent over to touch the floor, and rose again, pausing halfway up to shift her legs a metre or so apart. Both hands reached around and separated the cheeks of her bum. I didn't know where to look as she revealed the pink flesh of her anus and vagina to the camera, and me! Beth was constantly clicking, and telling Zoe how great she looked. Zoe pulled herself upright again, and cupping her bosom she then slowly undid four delicate bows on the material covering each breast. Letting the flap unfurl each breast flopped into view, topped off with a pair of erect nipples. She presented her nipples for the camera, and massaging her breasts, flashed her winning smile for Beth, and asked me if I was shocked by what I saw. I replied that I had never seen such a revealing outfit in my life, but that she look fabulous in it. She thanked me and strode out of the room, Beth still working the shutter of the camera for it was worth.

I glanced at Beth. She was busy with her cameras. I looked down the garden and wondered if the back of the house was overlooked at all. It didn't appear to be. It occurred to me that a teenage boy hopping over the fence to retrieve his football would have got an eyeful he would not forget!

"Have you thought of modelling yourself Anita? You have a great figure and I'd say you are very photogenic."

I replied that it wasn't something I'd ever thought of.

"You should."

Beth seemed to think I had something, and I felt that warm glow when someone gives a totally unexpected compliment.

Zoe returned to the conservatory, she looked gorgeous, this time in a crisp mini-skirted business suit and full make-up. I gasped and she smiled and took a seat and crossed her stockinged legs, hitching up her mini-skirt another inch or so, with the back garden stretching behind her beyond the conservatory. Beth took some final light readings and asked "Anita, as the light is starting to go, I'd like to take you up on your offer with the reflector as I want to avoid capture the low sun on one side of Zoe, but at the same time avoid too much shadow on the other. Oh, one other thing, even though you are not going to be in shot for this video, I'm afraid your top is going cast some colour interference, so, erm, would you be OK with taking it off. You can always put on a robe. I immediately complied and slipped off my top. I was pleased that I had decided on lacy white rather than my usual dreary 'flatten and hide the nipple' style of bra. I didn't make eye contact with either of the girls as I donned the bathrobe.

"OK, great, we're all ready."

Beth told me where to stand with the reflector and asked Zoe to begin whenever she wanted.

Zoe's eyes fixed onto the video camera lens and I watched transfixed as she went into her routine. She welcomed her viewer to their meeting. She explained that she had a plan to help to induce the interviewee to do business with her. Zoe stood and began to strip. It was professional and erotic. She knew precisely how to pace the removal of her clothes, the order in which it was done, which way to turn, and when. Before I knew it, she had lost her jacket and undid the middle buttons of the blouse and pulled it either side of her breasts. She had a delicate black lace quarter cup bra which exposed the top half of each nipple. She stepped out of her skirt and stood in front of Beth with her hands over her breasts. She proceeded to unbutton the remainder of the buttons and tossed her blouse aside. Slowly she revealed her breasts further by pulling down the tiny amount of material on the bra below her breasts.

"I bet by now you've got a decent hard on."

she grinned at the camera. All that remained below the waist was her hold-ups and a delicate thong. Turning from the camera she bent down, presenting a delightful bum to Beth. Thumbs hooked in the side of her thong, the wispy lace was slowly inched down her legs. I noticed that instead of a gusset the front and back of the thong was attached by a row of pearl beads. I'd never seen anything like it! She pulled up the thong again and aligned the flimsy elastic equally on either leg.

Zoe turned and sat back into the armchair. Her eyes half-shut, she lifted first one leg, and then the other and dangles her stiletto'd feet over the arms of the chair.

"I hope you are rubbing your cock now that you can see my pussy. Don't cum just yet though. I want us to enjoy wanking together."

She continued to eye the camera with one fist making the movements as if stroking the viewer's penis, and with two fingers of the other she parted the now-moist folds of her inner labia, and played with the beads on her thong, smoothing them into her vagina, and rubbing them around her exposed clitoris. She was totally hairless down there and the sight of her so brazenly sharing her intimacy took my breath away. When it returned I found myself breathing hard. I couldn't take my eyes away from the top of her legs. Time stopped, or sped by, I have no idea. Zoe's hands were now toying with her nipples, she threw her head back and almost begged

"Go on! Please! Jerk your cock all over my cunt! I want your spunk on my beads!"

I was aware again of Beth in the room. She had been dashing all over the place unbeknownst to me, I was so engrossed. Just as well that she had not required me to move. I also noticed that my robe was on the floor and my left hand has caressing my right breast. Zoe eased her legs back to a more lady-like pose and looked at me.

"I hope you are not disgusted Anita." she said with questioning eyes.

"My God, Zoe, you were just... just... incredible."

I couldn't find the words for how turned on I was.

The phone rang

"Hi Paul, that was good timing... Yes, Zoe. We've just finished... Yes, really good, she's such a star. Her friends will really love this one, if I've captured it - I think I've done her justice...Oh right, hang on, I'll ask her."

"Zoe, Paul will be back from work in 10 minutes or so, he wanted to know, if you wanted to hang on, then you can do that hand-job movie you talked about."

Zoe looked at me a little flustered

"Well, I not sure... I didn't think that Paul would be around when I asked Anita if she wanted to come... we should do it another time perhaps."

"That's alright Zoe, I'm fine, let's stay."

I replied, without really thinking I suppose what exactly was going to be happening.

So Beth told Paul that Zoe was going to wait. She then took a deep breath and explained to me, in a roundabout way, that although theirs might not appear to be the domestic set-up that I was used to seeing, but they were happy with it. Her husband Paul was going to arrive, he'd have a quick shower, then join us in the conservatory and Zoe was going to give him a hand-job and Paul would ejaculate over Zoe's tits and all the time Beth would be filming it. Zoe and Beth looked at me.

"Well, if you don't mind me watching, it will add to my afternoon's education."

They both grinned.

The sexual tension in the atmosphere cleared a little as we chatted. Beth greeted Paul at the door. I heard a few hushed whispers and he went upstairs. Zoe asked me if I was sure about this. I said again that I was fine, as long as they didn't expect me to join in. Zoe reassured me that there'd be no pressure at all, and said that she was amazed that I had reacted so positively so far, and had not asked to leave. Beth returned saying that Paul would be down shortly. Considering Zoe's nudity I didn't want to appear the prude that I probably normally do and briefly pondered whether to remain in my bra or not, but my conservative sensibilities won out, and I put the robe back on. This was all about Zoe after all, and no other man apart from you had ever seen me in my bra since university.

Zoe put her mini-skirt back on and said to me

"I don't really like bad language and I much prefer using the very occasional swear word. I find it is much more powerful the more sparingly it is used. Having said that, the reason I've put my skirt back on is that this scene is all about Pauls' cock fucking my tits and not my cunt!"

Our laughter coincided with Paul entering the conservatory. As soon as I saw him, it struck me that, apart from you, I have not seen another man's naked body for, well, I suppose it must be over 30 years. Paul did not have an ounce of clothing on. He sported a semi-relaxed penis of about four inches, which gently swayed from side to side as he strode confidently past me towards the window. Unlike Zoe, his genitals were not completely hairless, but he had shaved closely round his testicles. He had a toned muscular body and nice flat stomach.