Instagram Tales Isabel Stadler

HOME SWEET HOME

"Don't move, but turn your head slightly to look at me ... perfect ... hold it ... and smile. Yeah, just like that Izzy."

Using his mobile phone, Dominic Stadler clicked away as his wife Isabel complied to his request.

"Our first home," she said, beaming happily. Directed by Dominic, her pose had her standing at the half-glazed front door of their new house, looking out onto the street, one hand touching the middle strut of the quartered glass frame, the other just touching the glass pane to the side. They'd only picked up the keys to the house earlier that day from the solicitors.

"Perfect," Dominic said as he stopped taking photos and began to scroll through the pictures he'd taken. Isabel joined him and peered in over his shoulder. In her high heels she was taller than him.

"I like that one," Dominic said, stopping at the last picture he'd taken, "what do you think?"

Isabel smiled at her husband as she shook her head. "Don't you want to be in the picture too Dom? It is OUR house, not just mine."

"Nonsense," he smiled in return, "no-one wants to see a picture of ugly old me when they can look at a picture of you, now do they! Besides, IT IS your house. You were the driving force. This is all down to you babe."

She looked at the picture. It was a good shot that showed her as an attractive young woman with light brown hair and lovely brown eyes. But immediately, as she was prone to do, she began to mentally critique her appearance. On a good day she was smokin'. On a bad day ... well ... not so good, perhaps even ugly. Today was an in-between day.

Although she liked the fact she appeared so happy she was still hypercritical about her looks. She'd always felt that her nose was too long and her chin a bit too 'Desperate Dan' in appearance. Added to that she had high cheekbones and a fairly wide mouth but her lips were nice and pouty and she had nice teeth. Her body on the other hand was only just okay.

As usual Isabel Stadler was doing herself a disservice. She was tall and willowy, standing a touch over 5'9" in her bare feet. Her body shape could best be described as 'gangly' but bore testament to the many childhood hours spent in ballet classes. Her broad shoulders, long neck and tiny waist gave her a slender build that along with thin sensuous arms and long fingers had made her appear perfect for that art form.

That was until puberty kicked in and her breasts had first appeared. As she progressed through her teenage years they had just carried on growing, so much so that eventually her dance teacher told her that she would never be able to perform ballet professionally due to the size of her bust.

Now at twenty six years of age her breasts had developed into a sizeable tear drop shape, that at a bra busting 34F sat high and firm on her chest and looked much larger due to her slim upper body and flat tummy. Her thighs whilst extremely shapely were perhaps bigger than she would have liked and her arse wasn't a nice round bubble butt, but being heart shaped was still full enough to stretch out her tight fitting trousers in a good way that made men notice.

She may have given up her dreams of ballet but she had continued to dance. And whilst she may have been dismissive of her body shape, it was a fact that men saw her in a whole different light and really liked what they saw.

"I'll post it on Facebook and Instagram later tonight," Dominic said as he put his phone in his pocket. "Come on, let's get off home and do some more packing. We've only got a couple of days left before we move."

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TROUBLE IN PARADISE

Trying hard to stifle her moans of pleasure, Isabel's body shuddered as she finally came to her climax. She twitched in her seat as the last remnants of her orgasm rippled through her body in ever decreasing waves of delight until finally she was still.

"Pheeew," she exhaled softly as she wiped her brow with the back of her hand. It had taken some effort to cum tonight. In fact it was becoming harder each and every night. She knew perfectly well the reason why but angrily pushed the thought to the back of her mind.

She lowered her legs and pulled her skirt back down over her shapely thighs. She stood; at first unsteady; before she made her way from the living room to the kitchen. Making herself a pot of tea she then took a seat at the kitchen table, nursing her cup whilst it cooled. She could hear Dominic snoring loudly upstairs and shook her head sadly as she looked around the kitchen. It still wasn't finished. The alterations they had enthusiastically started had never been completed and they now no longer had the funds to finish them, let alone decorate.

How had it come to this? At first everything had been fine but now ... just a few months later ... it was all falling apart. She shook her head again as her thoughts began to drift back in time.

Dominic was a struggling artist when she first met him. He was a romantic, an aesthetic, a passionate but gentle soul and she found herself drawn to him like a moth to a flame, quickly becoming besotted with his easy charm and rakish, boyish good humour.

They were intimate on their second date as she already knew she loved him. Within five weeks of meeting; and much to her parent's disquiet; they moved in together. But she didn't care what they thought. She was in love, nothing else mattered.

They flitted from flat to flat, living a happy Bohemian life, free spirits in an increasingly grey and sombre world. But when the need to procreate became all consuming for Isabel, it was she who determined it was time to put down roots. They soon discovered that in the grey world you needed a job to get a mortgage, which was fine up to a point as Isabel had always worked. The problem was that Dominic never had. As an aesthetic he'd not wanted his creativity stifled by such mundane things in life as the regimen of having a job. Isabel had never minded being the sole breadwinner, as it gave Dominic the time in which to express himself artistically.

But then, having discussed the urgent need for more income to support their mortgage application, Dominic reluctantly agreed to look for work. With no skill sets his opportunities were limited but he eventually found employment in a distribution warehouse. It was a menial task he felt was far beneath a man of his intellect. It paid just above the minimum wage but if it would get them what his Izzy wanted, his sacrifice to his art would reluctantly have to be made.

When his bad credit history came to light, Isabel had been devastated. Her dreams lay in tatters, for she had already found the dream house she wanted to make into their family home. Eventually they found a lender who would overlook Dominic's bad credit but it came at a price. A higher interest rate meant a much higher monthly payment and a much bigger deposit. Even with Dominic working overtime they barely had enough but they finally scrimped together the extra deposit, which totally wiped out their meagre savings.

They had only been living in the home for a couple of months when their next bit of bad luck occurred.

Despite Isabel knowing that Dominic hated his job, he stuck at it. They needed his money for a little while longer for all the improvements and alterations that needed to be made. And then he was involved in a car accident on his way home from work that left him incapacitated for several weeks. Not having been with the company for very long his sick pay ran out quickly leaving a big hole in their household budget. Two weeks into his rehab and it became obvious that he wasn't responding to the treatment as he should have been. The surgeons weren't too optimistic about a speedy or successful recovery, which left Dominic devastated.

He turned to his art as a way of soothing his pain but in his hour of need his artistic flair had seemingly deserted him. Many a time Isabel had returned home from work to find ripped up canvasses littering the floor of his makeshift art studio. Unable to express himself artistically Dominic became increasingly morbid as he sank slowly into a deep depression.

Just before his accident they had been trying for a baby, Isabel thinking that the time was right to start a family, but that plan too now lay in tatters. Not only could they now not afford to have an addition to the family but Dominic at the moment was in no position to even make love to his wife. Not only was it difficult due to his injuries, the cocktail of drugs he was presently taking had apparently lowered his libido to such an extent that he now felt little to no sexual desire or indeed feelings of intimacy towards his wife.

At first Isabel was unhappy although sympathetic about the situation. Despite the negative feelings she had about her angular body shape, her burgeoning breasts had ensured that she'd never lacked for male attention when she was younger. But she never slept around. Every relationship had been intense emotionally as well as sexually.

As a result she'd always given everything of herself when expressing her love of intimacy and had become a very sexual person. That need hadn't lessened and she still had desires that needed satisfying. So she'd clung to the hope that Dominic would soon snap out of his malaise and their problems would disappear. But sadly as the weeks became months there seemed no end in sight. It seemed Dominic could barely make the effort to kiss and cuddle his wife let alone make love to her.

Isabel took her marriage vows very seriously. To love and to cherish, in sickness and in health meant just that. She'd nursed him through from the beginning. But now that the physical signs of Dominic's injury had diminished there were still the mental scars that remained.

Even though he'd hated his job, Isabel knew that being unable to contribute financially had hurt him deeply. His feelings of worth were further diminished even further by his seeming inability to resume sexual relations with his wife and give her the child she so desperately wanted.

But even though she was a highly sexual woman, forsaking all others meant just that. She never for a moment would consider cheating on her husband. She could find other ways to give herself the sexual release she craved.

To try to overcome her needs and desires, Isabel bought herself a vibrator. Whilst it satisfied her orgasmic needs, she missed her pussy being stretched and the pounding that only a good meaty cock could provide. She missed the intimacy she felt whilst clinging to her man, kissing him as she was being fucked. She missed the mauling of her breasts, the tugging and pinching of her nipples and the sucking of her pussy lips. She couldn't get any of that from sex toys. There was no getting away from it, Isabel liked the physicality of good hard sex.

With a deep sigh Isabel finished her drink and rising from the kitchen table put her cup in the sink. It was time for bed. She was at work early again tomorrow.

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THE PROBLEMS DEEPEN

Still reeling from that double whammy, they were rocked for a third time when big changes were announced at Isabel's work.

She was employed by a large company that had been taken over by an even larger conglomerate several months previously. Changes at the highest level had happened quickly but other changes were now being slowly filtered down through the stores. Isabel had worked for the company for nearly eight years, starting at the age of eighteen at the very bottom and working her way up until she had reached the position of Supervisor/Team Leader. Her position was classed as managerial although her pay grade didn't really reflect that status.

Despite that, she loved her job and was comfortable in her role within it. Then came the day a new manager arrived to take over. He had called an early meeting to take place before the store opened for the day and had requested that all staff be present. He stood on a couple of pallets to give him the elevated chance to survey his staff, and so far he was liking what he saw.

John Lee was a cocky, arrogant man who amongst many other things considered himself god's gift to women. Over the years he'd shagged his way through many of the women he'd worked with, some being willing victims, many not. It was the latter he liked the best. They were invariably married, which made the end result all the more sweeter. He was so far living a charmed life as no-one had ever reported him for his salacious misdemeanours. But then he planned his every move carefully to avoid this potential problem.

Single and in his early forties, he was a good looking man, blessed with an easy charm that actually belied his aggressive nature, which he was careful to keep well hidden. Standing a couple of inches over six foot and with dark hair and startlingly blue eyes, he had enough about him to make the younger female staff swoon just by looking at him.

As he took his position on top of the pallet, his experienced eye ran across the faces of his female staff. He discounted any eager looks he was receiving, which in fairness were only from some of the younger girls. He wasn't interested in them at all. These he belittled by regarding them as skanks that were far too easy to conquer, giving themselves to him without a fight. Fucking them also brought too many complications that he didn't want or need.

His eyes were drawn to the older women. He could sense which were the curious ones. They were drawn in by his good looks and easy smile. These would be the married women desperate for a bit of strange, the ones he knew that with a little persuasion, would willingly cheat on their husbands. He filed them away for future reference. They would be the women he would fuck when in need of a quick fix. They were as easy to seduce as the young staff but usually without the added complication of thinking they had fallen in love with him.

And that left just three potential candidates in his preferred age range. He glanced at the piece of paper in his hand. It was a photo list with a head and shoulders shot of every employee. He put an asterisk next to each of the three photos as he read the names beneath. Carly Simon. Michelle Owen. Isabel Stadler. He nodded sagely to himself. Yes these were the three he would investigate first.

A few days later and John was down to the last name on his list.

Carly's employee file had her listed as married. And her photo must have been an old one. Both items were misleading as Carly turned out to be an overweight lesbian. Nothing wrong with either of those two facts but obviously not what he was looking for.

Michelle Owen had proved to be initially interesting until he found out she had recently separated from her husband. Petite with short black hair and blessed with a fairly fit body he thought she might be worthy of his attention. That was until he got to chat with her a few times. He quickly removed her from his list. He most certainly didn't want to get involved with a woman who was clearly intensely emotional and overwrought about her impending divorce.

That left him with Isabel Stadler. She was married, so that ticked one of his boxes but in his opinion she wasn't particularly good looking. For one thing, her long brown hair always seemed so unruly and wild. And facially she was odd looking, in an angular sort of way. You certainly would never class her as a beautiful woman but she had thick pouty lips that he liked and her eyes were alluring. She never seemed to wear makeup and he thought maybe she should.

He liked that she was tall and slender and suspected she had nice sized breasts, but her form hiding, unflattering work clothes gave him little clue as to what her whole body was really like.

With a desire to find out more, he sent her a friend request on Facebook, which she accepted without hesitation. She had nothing to hide and was a common user of that social media platform.

John was pleased when she accepted and that led him to viewing some of the photos that Dominic had posted. They were all fairly tame shots of a fully clothed Isabel on holiday or at home and whilst there was nothing risque about any of them, the full body shots revealed the voluptuous shape of her nubile body and were more than enough to pique John's interest and fuel a desire to make further investigations.

At a loose end one night John decided to do a reverse image search of some of her photographs. It took him a while but eventually his searching led to the discovery of her Instagram account. Although her user name gave no hint of her identity, it was undeniably her. He was amazed at the amount of photos she had posted, so many that he wondered whether Isabel was an Instagram model/influencer, as he scrolled through shot after shot of her posing for the camera in a variety of locations. He wasn't to know it was actually Isabel's husband Dominic who had taken the photographs to give him inspiration for his portrait art.

These photos were far more revealing but John didn't care. He thought her body was divine as he leered over shots of her fully clothed body. These photographs did nothing to hide the size of her large breasts, which he realised only looked so obscenely big because of her slender build and narrow waist.

And if that wasn't enough he then found even better photographs of her that he felt must have been shot professionally. Extremely arty, they were pictures of supreme quality, taken from different angles, often with mood lighting and showing Isabel in various stages of undress. She was never completely naked, but close enough so that you could almost visualise her nudity. Again these had all been taken by Dominic.

John liked what he saw. A fully made up Isabel wearing sexy lingerie made him burn with desire. Shots of her arse, wonderfully displayed in tight fitting leggings and pictures of her form fitting, deep cleavage revealing tops made his cock rock hard.

Without realising, he quickly became obsessed with her, his desire to see more even driving him to forgo real sex. He became her virtual stalker, creating a folder on his computer just for her and obsessively downloading image after image into it.

His desire for her became all consuming and he was soon spending every night scrolling through the images he had downloaded, drooling over the revealing body shots, dreaming of the day when he would see her dressed like that just for him, before his passion burned red hot and he would cum hard as he fantasised of actually fucking her.

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THE START OF THE FALL

A few weeks later and John got his chance to see her out of work. Their store had an active social club for the members of staff and held a number of outings throughout the year. One of the most fun was the ten pin bowling night. It was an event that was always well attended and John was pleased when he saw Isabel's name on the list.

He got there early to stake his claim to a good seat. No matter which bowling lane Isabel used John would be able to see her quite easily. When she arrived, she walked through the door chatting earnestly with an older woman. John smiled. It was Annie Sugden and she was on his list of the older, married women he would like to fuck. She was fifty years of age but was blessed with the body of a woman a lot younger.

He'd been flirting with her for weeks and had recently progressed to fondling her bum, to which she'd made no objection, so he felt she was sufficiently primed and ready to go if his stab at Isabel tonight proved to be fruitless, which in truth is what he fully expected it would be.

As Isabel shrugged off her coat she turned and John saw her body for the first time. His cock stiffened immediately.

"Oh yeess," he murmured to himself as he took in the curves on display. She was better, in fact a whole heap better, than he could ever have dreamed or hoped for. One dimensional photographs just weren't enough for a body like hers.