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One afternoon, when Vanessa was out, I spent an enjoyable hour going through her wardrobe. Vanessa had, as I have said, expensive tastes, and spent a lot of money on clothing and underwear. She tended, as I have mentioned, to dress quite conservatively, but beneath the prim and proper dresses she wore to work she loved to wear sexy lingerie, and had a huge collection of bras and panties which must have set her back a small fortune. She even had petticoats, which I didn’t think any girls wore these days (unless it’s over their other clothes!) She never wore panty-hose, always stockings with a garter belt.
Vanessa had the uncanny ability to return home from work looking as fresh and well-groomed as when she had left for it in the morning. Sometimes I would grab her as she came in the door and fuck her with her work clothes still on. I would throw back her skirt, pull aside the gusset of her panties and slip my cock into her, then squeeze her tits through her blouse and bra as I fucked her, the edge of her panties rubbing roughly against the side of my dick. I’d pull her blouse up and bury my face in her armpits and lick them, tasting her salty sweat (I loved it when it had been hot and she was sweaty). I loved the smell of her armpits so much I persuaded her to stop using deodorant, and I eventually got her to stop shaving her armpit hair as well. She had been reluctant to do this at first, saying it was unfeminine, but I showed her a book I had on the history of women’s underwear, featuring women in camisoles and corsets with bushy patches of hair under their arms, and said how sexy I found this. Finally she agreed. (Her pussy, meanwhile, she continued to shave diligently, every two days.)
I developed something of a fetish for seeing my sperm on Vanessa’s clothing and in her hair. One night I was fucking her on our bed after she had come home from work. She still had her pale blue sweater and, just as I was about to cum, I pulled out and ejaculated onto it. On another occasion, Vanessa, in a red bra and panties, was sitting on the lounge, giving me a head job. I told her to stop and wanked myself until I spurted onto her bra. I took great delight in rubbing my warm semen into the heavy, lacey material. Sometimes my ejaculatory efforts ruined the clothes in question, but I assured her I would replace them.
Meanwhile I was beginning to encourage her to wear more revealing clothing. On our shopping expeditions – and Vanessa needed no encouragement to go shopping – I would steer her towards buying short skirts and flimsy tops. I bought her a number of tight white T-shirts and singlet tops – I’ve always had a liking for these – and persuaded her to sometimes wear them without a bra. I bought her another dress of paisley patterned silk, which was backless so she couldn’t wear a bra with it. I made her wear this to a party one night and I could see guys looking surreptitiously at her tits through the flimsy material. At one point, when we were playing a game of pool in the garage of the house, Vanessa was leaning over the table to make a shot when the dress fell open, revealing one full, hanging white breast. A couple of guys whistled.
I made no attempt to hide my porn collection from Vanessa when she moved into my house. I had a pile of magazines and videos in the bedroom and in my study, even a big brown paper bag full of super-8 films from the ‘70s that someone had given me that was perched on top of the wardrobe. I expected that she would soon find it and look at it and react to it in some way, whether to say how offensive she thought it was or whatever. But she didn’t. Vanessa was in some ways a very incurious girl. Also part of my porn collection was an album of photos I had taken of three previous girlfriends. The majority were of an Italian girl called Nina, who I lived with for about six chaotic months. Nina was the only girl I’ve ever met whom I’d call a genuine nymphomaniac. She was a shameless exhibitionist who loved to strip off in public and to pose for photos. She was happy to do anything I asked her, and I had taken dozens of pictures of me fucking her and she sucking my cock. I shared them with Seb and some of my other friends. Once when Seb was over I let him fuck her while I took pictures of it. I was determined to get Vanessa to pose for similar pictures.
One night I walked into our bedroom to find her already in bed. She was lying on her side, wearing a pale blue nightie, and leafing through a women’s magazine. I got undressed and went to get in beside her, but then I had an idea. I walked over to the wardrobe and, rummaging in it, pulled out three or four porn magazines – nothing too hardcore, just girly mags.
“Vanessa,” I said, walking over to the bed, “I want you to have a look a these.” I put the magazines on the bed in front of her.
She looked up at me quizzically. “Your dirty magazines. I know – I’ve seen them”
“Have you ever looked at them?”
“No, not really.”
“Never? Weren’t you ever curious?” I sat down on the bed next to her. “Well, I want you to have a look at them now.”
“I casino siteleri just want you to. Do it for me, hon?”
As I watched over her shoulder, Vanessa tentatively opened the first magazine to a photo of an olive-skinned girl with long, curly dark hair, reclining on a bed in bra and panties.
Vanessa turned the page. Now the girl’s bra was gone and she was squeezing her large, pendulous, stubby-nippled tits together.
I put my arm around Vanessa and buried my face in her hair, taking in its sweet smell, and kissed the back of her neck. I reached up and cupped her breasts, which felt wonderful through the soft cotton material of her nightie, then let my hand fall onto her lap.
Vanessa turned another page. The model had removed her panties and she now sat with her legs spread open and her fingers parting fat pussy lips.
“What do you think?” I asked.
She looked at me with her eyebrows raised. “I had no idea they were so…so gynaecological.”
“Look at some more.”
“I don’t know how girls can do this,” she said, turning more pages. “I’d be so embarrassed. What if a member of their family saw it? What if their father saw it?”
I laughed. “I’m sure it would make his day.”
“Oh, don’t be so rude!” she said.
I found the sight of Vanessa looking at porn extremely exciting, and I was getting hard. I pushed my hand between her legs, feeling her pussy through the nightie, my fingers tracing her slit.
I asked her to tell me what she thought about the various models, if she found them attractive or not. “She’s nice,” she said about one young blonde girl. “She’s got a hard face,” she said about a brunette.
To my delight, I felt moistness on her nightie, between her legs. “You’re getting wet,” I whispered in her ear. “I think you like looking at those pictures.” I pulled her nightie up over her hips and, without ceremony, slid my cock into her from behind, but in the process accidentally pushed Vanessa off the bed and onto the floor. She landed on all fours with the porn mags scattered on the carpet around her. “Vanessa,” I said as I slipped my dick back in and started to fuck her from behind, “I’m going to take some photos of you, like those ones.”
“No,” she said. “It’s…no, you can’t.”
“Yes I can,” I said. “And you’ll let me do it. And when I do, I’ll send some copies to your father.”
“And he’ll open up the envelope and take out the photos, and there he’ll see his darling daughter, with her tits bare, her pussy spread open.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“I will. I’ll take some tomorrow. And you’ll let me. Won’t you? Won’t you?”
I was gripping her by the hips, my belly slamming against her buttocks. She was moaning, but I’m sure I heard her say, “If you want.”
Next day I came home with a bottle of wine, which we drank over dinner. After we’d finished, I picked up my bag and brought out my major purchase of the day. “What’s that?” Vanessa asked as I got it out of its packaging.
“It’s a digital camera.” I said. “I’m going to take those photos of you.”
Vanessa blushed. “You mean the naked ones?”
“I thought you might forget about that,” she said. “But you can’t – you won’t show them to anyone else, will you? Please?”
“No-one else will see them. Now, I want you to go and get ready. Put on your red dress, and some nice underwear.”
Vanessa went off to get changed while I got the camera ready. I went and sat in the lounge room, waiting for my model.
After about 15 minutes Vanessa came in. She was wearing the dress – a halter necked number which I had bought her which showed off her tits nicely – and applied fresh make-up and red lipstick. I was pleased to see that she was getting into the spirit of the thing. She looked gorgeous, if a little nervous.
I told her to sit on the lounge and a took a few preliminary shots. Vanessa clearly liked being photographed and she was happy to turn this way and that as I posed her.
“OK,” I said after about five minutes, “pull the straps of your dress down.”
Looking straight at the camera, she slid the thin straps over her shoulders, then pulled the front of the dress down. She was wearing a black lace bra. I took a few more shots.
“Right, now take the bra off.”
She reached behind her and unhooked the bra and removed it, thrusting her chest out.
“Touch your breasts. Squeeze them – that’s right. Touch your nipples. See if you can make them hard.” She did so, brushing the plump, pale brown buds with the tips of her fingers until they began to crinkle.
“Do you like them?” I asked. “Do you like your tits?”
She looked down at them. “They’re nice, aren’t they?” She looked up again, a look of concern on her face. “Are they big enough?”
“Yes, they’re just right. Now, spread your legs.”
With a look I can only describe as lascivious – she really was getting into it now – Vanessa parted her shapely legs. She wore stockings and black panties, the latter of slightly transparent material canlı casino so I could clearly see her slit through them.
“Pull your panties aside,” I said. “Let me see your cunt.”
She looked up at me and licked her lips. “You want to see my cunt?” she said.
I let the camera drop for a moment. It was the first time she had used the word.
“I’ll show you my cunt,” she whispered, pulling the gusset of the panties aside. I fell onto me knees and began to snap photos of her pussy.
“Open it up for me,” I said. “I want to see right inside you.” Hooking her index fingers into her vagina, Vanessa spread herself wide open for the camera. I took a few close-ups, then putting the camera onto the lounge next to her, undid my pants. I pulled her forward a bit on the lounge and, pressing the head of my cock against her pussy, found she was slippery with juice. I pushed my way in and picked up the camera again.
“No,” she said. “Don’t photograph me like this. It’s – it’s not decent.”
“Who cares about that?” I said. “It’s a beautiful sight.” Framing a shot so that her face could be seen, looking up imploringly at the camera as my cock pierced her cunt, I snapped another picture.
Later we sat on our bed and looked at all the pictures through the camera’s viewfinder. “What do you think of them?” I asked her as we inspected a shot of her naked on all fours, her bum in the air, her arsehole open.
She looked at me wonderingly. “I can’t believe it’s me.”
In the next few weeks, I took a lot more photos of Vanessa. She quickly lost any inhibitions about what I could take. I photographed her with her arse spread, my finger burrowing into her arsehole, followed by my cock. I photographed her sucking me, and me ejaculating onto her tits and face. I took a series in the bathroom, where I got her to squat on the toilet seat and piss. The more photos I took of her, the more she seemed to enjoy her new role as porn model. Sometimes she’d come to bed in a sexy nightie or something and writhe around practically begging to be photographed. It seemed like I had uncovered a genuinely exhibitionistic side of Vanessa.
One day, a sunny Sunday afternoon, I said I wanted to take some photos of her outdoors. I told her she should wear her short blue dress, with no bra.
We walked up to a park not far from our house. There were some youths kicking a football around up the other end of it, but it was otherwise empty. Vanessa sat on a park bench, hidden from the youths by a hedge, and took a few shots of her.
“Take your panties off,” I said to her after a while.
“But someone might come!”
“Nonsense. No-one can see anything.”
Vanessa looked around uncertainly, then, hiking up her skirt, slid her apricot-coloured panties down her legs. “Give them to me,” I said. She threw them to me and I stuffed them into my pocket.
“Now, spread your legs.”
Looking around again, Vanessa parted her legs and I began to snap photos. I got her to stand up and, hitching her skirt up, point her bum at the camera.
“OK, unbutton the front of your dress now. Let’s see your tits.” Vanessa undid the buttons and pulled the dress open, exposing her breasts. I snapped a few more shots.
At this point I noticed an old guy with a walking stick was approaching us along the path that ran down the middle of the park. Vanessa was so caught up with posing that she didn’t see him until he was a few feet away. When she did see him she quickly sat down on the bench with her knees together, but not before the guy, who looked to be in his mid-sixties and wore a green flannel shirt and baggy brown pants, had seen what sort of photos I was taking. He smiled broadly, revealing some gappy teeth, and pointed to my camera. “You take pictures for magazine?” he asked. He had some sort of a European accent.
“That’s right,” I said.
He looked at Vanessa. “She very beautiful. Reminds me of a girl I knew.” He nudged me in the arm. “Nice titties,” he said.
“You want to see them?” I asked.
“See them? Of course I would like to see them!”
I turned to her. “Vanessa, show the man your breasts.”
Vanessa, looking at the old guy uncertainly, slowly pulled the front of her dress open.
“Beautiful girl,” he breathed. He hobbled over for a closer look. I began to take some pictures of the two of them.
“Why don’t you sit down next to her?” I suggested.
He didn’t need any persuading. He sat a little unsteadily on the bench, then turned to face Vanessa. His walking stick fall to the ground as he grabbed Vanessa’s tits in his wrinkled hands and began to squeeze them. Vanessa looked from me back to the old man who was now sucking one of her nipples hard, like a hungry baby. I continued to take pictures.
Later, after taking a few shots where Vanessa had one leg thrown over the old man’s leg and he was staring down appreciatively at her open pussy, he stood up, grinning, thanked me for the best time he’d had in years, and went on his way.
As we walked back home, Vanessa said kaçak casino she needed to pee. I told her if she was going to she would have to do it in the street. After walking a while further, doubled up a little, she gave in. She stood with her feet a little apart and I took photos as the yellow pee spurted from her, some of it trickling down the insides of her legs, and formed a puddle between her feet. (There were cars driving by only a few feet away as she did this.) She tried to keep her dress out of the flow, but a little pee splashed onto the front of it, leaving a noticeable wet patch. As we continued on our way back, a couple of young girls passed us. I saw one of them looking at Vanessa’s dress, and heard her say something about it to her companion.
For some reason, in recent years I’ve had a compulsion to share my girlfriends with others, and I was eager for people to see the photos I had taken of Vanessa. I began posting them on the net and encouraged people to send in comments about them. I loved the idea that strangers were looking at her, and she having no idea. I sent a lot of them to Seb, and he wrote back to say he’d had an excellent wank while looking at them. “I’d love to fuck her,” he wrote, no doubt thinking of how I’d let him have Nina.
Letting Seb fuck Vanessa while I watched had in fact been one of many scenarios in my mind. But as it turned out another guy got there first.
Vanessa and I had been to see a movie. After it we had a late dinner, then dropped in to our local pub. Vanessa was looking cute in a tight pink T-shirt and white shorts, with her hair tied back in a ponytail. I could see a number of men eyeing her up.
We fell into conversation with a group of young men and women who turned out to be British backpackers. Vanessa was on her third or fourth glass of wine and was flirting with them. One in particular, a good looking guy with curly dark hair and a couple of day’s growth of beard on his cheeks, had obviously caught her attention. I watched, amused. I was drinking scotch and feeling quite light headed.
The guy offered to buy us drinks. He handed me a scotch and asked if Vanessa and I had been together long. I told him we were married and he said, “Damn it!” in a jokey way.
I bought another round, and then last drinks were called. Vanessa was leaning against the bar and the curly haired guy was saying something into her ear. I went over to them and told him that we lived just up the road, and asked him if he’d like to come back for a drink. He said he’d love to.
We walked to our house, chatting about God know what. When we got there I cracked open a bottle of red wine and put a CD on. I asked him if he had a girlfriend. He said he’d had one but they had split up before he came over here. I sat on the lounge next to him. Vanessa was standing in the middle of the room, swaying to the music.
“So, what do you think of my wife?” I asked him.
“She’s great. You’re a lucky man.”
“I know,” I said. I swallowed some of the wine. “How much would you pay to fuck her?”
He looked at me incredulously. “Are you serious?”
“You’re… into that?”
“Wow.” He shook his head, then pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans and looked inside it. “I’ve only got sixty dollars on me,” he said apologetically. “Are you really serious about this?”
“Hmm… Sixty dollars. Well, let’s say for twenty, she’ll suck your dick, for forty you can fuck her pussy, and for sixty, oh, whatever you want. There’s only one condition…” I leant over and picked up my camera from where it had been sitting on the coffee table.
He shook his head. “Oh, man, this is pretty fucked up. I never done anything like this. I don’t know…”
He looked at Vanessa, who was watching us curiously. Because of the music she hadn’t heard anything we had said.
“Take it or leave it,” I said.
He smiled, his face still registering disbelief. I took the sixty dollars from his hand.
I stood up and walked over to Vanessa and put my arms around her. “What were you talking about?” she said.
I kissed her on the mouth. “Do you like him?” I asked her.
“He’s cute,” she said, looking over my shoulder at the guy.
“Would you like to fuck him?”
“Yes,” she said softly.
“That’s good, because I want you to fuck him – while I watch.”
I led Vanessa over to him. She hung her head, looking bashful all of a sudden. When she was standing in front of him I took hold of the bottom of her T-shirt and pulled it up and over her head – she wasn’t wearing a bra. He stood up, looking at me, gauging my reaction.
“What do you think of her tits?” I asked him.
“They’re, uh, they’re lovely,” he said, his voice gruff. He reached up and touched one of her jutting nipples experimentally, then squeezed it gently between thumb and forefinger. I think he still half expected I was about to turn on him and throw him out.
“It’s OK,” I said reassuringly. “You can do whatever you want to her.”
He threw an arm around her and began to kiss her, and I could see her tongue darting into his mouth. It was the first time I had ever seen her kissing anyone else and I stood there, trying to decide how I felt about watching it. I decided I wanted to see more.
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