It’s hard to pinpoint where it all started. Where it finished, we’ll come to later. It may have been when we got the digital SLR and I was persuaded to allow Jonny, my husband, to take some shots of me in my finest lingerie. Don’t get me wrong, I was happy enough with the results, I thought I looked hot, sexy and sophisticated. He took them in black and white mode, so they looked quite artistic as well. I wouldn’t want them on the walls when people came round though. They were for me and him. I thought I might put them on view when I was old and grey to show how hot I used to be, but as I’m young and blonde (ish) at the moment they stay private.
It may have been when we got the 2 Terabyte home server as part of our home entertainment system, all our pictures, films, music and recorded TV shows were saved centrally for access anywhere in the house or, with the right password, anywhere in the world.
It may even have been when Jonny got involved with rebuilding the changing rooms at the village football club seven years ago, because that’s where he met Rich, now one of his closest mates.
Jonny’s mid-thirties, a year older than me, he works as a civil engineer for the highways agency, building and maintaining roads and bridges around the southwest of England. His unruly black hair is starting to grey a bit here and there, detracting a bit from his overall boyish look. I think he likes it as it gives him a bit more gravitas at work. I miss the boyish look but tease him about turning into my very own silver fox. He keeps active through work and goes to the gym a few times a week as well as playing Sunday league football, so he’s still got the athletic build he had when I first met him as a twenty-two-year-old fresh out of uni, although he’s been putting a lot of time into work lately and the Gym’s taken a bit of a back seat over the past six months.
I’m Louise, I work in the IT support team at the Southwest Regional NHS Trust, keeping the computers working in the hospitals, health centres, ambulance stations and GPs surgeries across three counties. It’s not the best paid job in the world, I could double what I get if I went to one of the banks in London or Bristol, but it gets me out and about and it’s a job that really makes a difference and the satisfaction from that is worth the extra money.
I’m not the only girl in the department, there are twenty people in IT and eight of us are female, including the director, Carol Wainwright. There are still a few blokes in their forties with straggly beards and wolf or dragon T shirts hiding in the shadows, enraged at the lack of accuracy in the second film in the Lord of the Rings series but they are in the minority these days and most of them are now capable of speech in the presence of a woman.
I prefer Zumba and Dancercise classes to keep fit, one of the benefits of working in a big health care organisation is having subsidised wellbeing opportunities and I normally took a couple of classes a week at work, along with yoga in the village community centre.
Rich is workshop manager at the local Renault dealership, he trained as a mechanic and is still qualified but these days spends his time in a corporate shirt and tie not overalls. He gets his grease fix maintaining a couple of old motorbikes, don’t ask me what they are because (1) I have no interest and so don’t really care and (2) he keeps changing them so while it could be a Honda and a Yamaha today, next week it could be a (googles motorbike names) Ducati and an Indian.
Rich invariably had bits of motorbike in the kitchen, he used the dishwasher to clean engine parts and often had a frame in varying states of assembly in the living room. You may be surprised to learn he’s single at the moment, girls came and went but none of them had ever come close to moving into chateau Rich. There’s only so much grease and engine oil a girl can put up with in her home.
He and Jonny were heading off to Ireland for a weekend, Rich’s dad was from Cork, and he’d instilled a lifelong passion for Gaelic football in his son, and there was some international event against Australia at Croke Park which they’d scored a couple of tickets for, so off they were going for a weekend of Guinness, stuffing the Aussies, more Guinness, tea and cake at Bewley’s and more Guinness. My role was to deliver them to Bristol airport for a 9 am flight on Friday and to collect them at 2 pm on Sunday, other than that I had the house to myself.
To be honest, I was quite looking forward to it. I’d arranged for a couple of girlfriends to come over on Friday evening for a catch up with a couple of bottles of Frascati and a takeaway, plus Jonny really needed a break, he’d been under a lot of pressure at work for a while now.
As the boys’ flight was earlyish on Friday Rich was staying over on Thursday evening, I had a Zumba class at the hospital in Gloucester and was persuaded to pick up a curry on the way home. Jonny and Rich would start the evening with a “Cheeky quick one in the Lamb, honest Lou, it’ll just be the one.”
I was not shocked when I got home to find the quick one had turned into a quick three and I was faced with two giggly but amiable drunks. I’d anticipated their lack of will power and grabbed half a dozen cans of Guinness and a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc along with the curry.
I’m not a massive beer drinker, and something as strong tasting as Guinness was well out of my comfort zone but I was persuaded to try a glass with my biryani, it wasn’t as bad as I expected and as I topped up with a second glass Rich seemed very pleased with himself telling me “You see Lou, it’s like they say. Once you’ve been Black, you’ll never go back.”
He and Jonny thought this was the funniest thing they’d ever heard, I gave them an indulgent smile, suggested that perhaps that wasn’t what the saying referred to and swapped to Sauvignon Blanc.
After we’d eaten and all the dishes were in our carburettor free dishwasher we moved through to the living room, which since we had the extension built is on the first floor above the double garage, it gives us an enormous room that I’m not convinced Jonny didn’t design simply so he could have the world’s biggest TV without it looking out of place. Honestly, I kid you not, it’s like being at a Multiplex.
We settled into the sofas and Jonny fired up the screen, “Rich you’ve got to see this. We went to the county show last weekend and there were all these classic cars and bikes. Look at this lot.”
He took hold of the remote and in his drunken state tried to navigate to the photos on the server, semi-successfully as it turned out. He got to the photo files but instead of opening the folder marked ‘County Show’ he clicked on the one underneath that was ‘Lou, Hot’. Before I could grab the handset off him the first image popped up on the screen. Did I mention it’s the biggest TV in the world? 85-inch, 4K, Ultra High Definition. And there was me, in a black and white image wearing a black Basque with stockings, suspenders, four-inch heels and a tiny thong. My boobs were barely held in by the sheer 34 c cups, if I hadn’t been posed with one arm folded across my front, squeezing them in, my nipples would have shown through as if I was naked.
“Jonny, what the fuck are you doing? Get that off.” I was mortified, glowing crimson with embarrassment. Rich was dumbstruck and Jonny was genuinely dismayed, apologising over and over as he tried to change the image, eventually switching the TV off, which at least got the image off the screen. I grabbed the remote off him, annoyed but prepared to believe it was a genuine mistake.
“Right. As the only sober and IT literate person here, I’ll take control of this” I announced and switched the TV back on again. Of course, the server was still set to the previous file, and I reappeared in all my sex-goddess artistic black and white glory. In terms of breaking the embarrassment that was probably for the best. I’d made a similar mistake to Jonny, I should have selected input before activating the screen, so couldn’t stay angry.
Rich looked over at me and approvingly said “I think you look very nice, if that helps?”. I thanked him but confirmed to no one’s surprise that it didn’t actually help. I navigated out of my embarrassment and into the county show where there were about a dozen pictures of a very shiny red Ducati and a few Harley-Davidson custom bikes. I had a feeling they weren’t the image everyone enjoyed the most from the evening and sat there in a confliction of embarrassment at being caught out and pride in how hot I looked. The Guinness ran out shortly afterwards and as we had to be out of the door at around five thirty the next morning, we all turned in shortly after eleven.
The numbers on my bedside alarm glowed green, something had woken me up at two thirteen. It couldn’t have been Jonny, he was making enough noise snoring to raise the dead, a skinful of beer does that to him. Something told me it was from outside our bedroom.
I rolled out of bed and quietly padded across to the door, opening it softly I looked down the hallway. I thought I saw a shadow pass into the living room. Thinking to myself that if it was a burglar, I could shout loud enough to wake up Jonny, and Rich for that matter, but if it was my imagination I didn’t want to look stupid, I tiptoed down to the half open entrance.
A glow of light was shining out through the doorway, I gently pushed on the door, swinging it further open. The 85-inch screen was on, providing the only light in the room. From my vantage point by the door I could see in, but it was pretty obvious that whoever was in there wasn’t paying attention to what was behind him.
On the sofa I could see Rich, his attention fixed on the screen, where I was displayed in all my lingerie clad glory in the same image that had popped up earlier. I was about to give a theatrical cough and ask what the actual fuck he was doing when I saw what he was doing. There was a bottle of suntan lotion on the sofa’s arm and Rich was moving his hand rhythmically in his groin. His attention was entirely focussed on the screen. Looking closer he had his hand on his penis, it was erect, swollen and hot looking. As I watched he took a squirt of sun cream and rubbed it into the shaft.
With his other hand he changed the image on the screen, this one had me pushing my breasts together in a jutting cleavage, looking straight into the lens with a ‘come and fuck me’ look in my eye.
I should have been disgusted, or at the very least shocked but I was spellbound, here was a man I’d known for ten years or more, a man that had never even hinted at any attraction for me, masturbating over pictures of me on the TV screen. I felt strangely powerful, empowered by the effect my pictures were having on him.
The screen changed again, this time my boobs were on open view, unconcealed by the see-through cups of my Basque, my nipples standing stiffly out. I remembered being turned on at the time and now watching Rich working his stiff cock I was even more turned on. He was keeping a slow pace but seemed to be gripping tighter than I would if I was doing it. I startled myself at the thought, I was taking a surreptitious thrill in watching but couldn’t imagine doing it, although I had just imagined it. Confused and horny I carried on watching.
I knew there were no more explicit pictures, although I was a bit surprised when the screen changed to an image of me topless on the beach, not one I remembered being taken, but I had a nice even tan, and if I say so myself my boobs looked amazing.
I realised that I wanted to see him cum, I was incredibly turned on, both from the sight of Rich working his cock and the feelings of exhibitionism from my pictures being used in such a raw manner. I looked at his cock with more interest, it seemed no larger than Jonny’s, which is very nicely proportioned itself, but Rich had a more pronounced head, with a really sharp looking ridge around the edge. Despite having no interest or intentions I found myself wondering what it would feel like sliding into my pussy.
I slipped a couple of fingers into my pyjama trousers, mother of God, I was wet. A shiver of excitement shot through me as I caressed my clit. I bit on my lip to stop myself squeaking in delight, the last thing I wanted now was to get caught, God alone knows where we might end up if that happened. I knew I ought to leave him to his private enjoyment of my photos, but I was transfixed. I’d never seen a man masturbate like that before, alone and with total concentration on the job in hand, if you’ll forgive the pun, and it was one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen.
The image on the screen changed again, back to a black and white lingerie shot. This one was taken from behind my back, wearing just my thong, stockings and suspenders. I was looking over my left shoulder with my hands on my hips. There was plenty of side boob on the left, but until now I hadn’t realised my nipple was quite obvious. Rich must have noticed, or he liked my bum framed by the black of the lace thong, because he started rubbing his cock harder, giving a strangulated groan his fist was almost a blur, his other hand was squeezing his balls, when with a gasp he sent a powerful shot of cum across his stomach and chest, a second jet followed then a third across his thighs.
Realising he was about to start moving round I stepped back out of the room and rushed silently back to bed, making a mental note to get the disinfectant round the sofa when I got back from the airport. I crawled in next to Jonny, willing him to wake up to tend to the itch I so desperately wanted scratching. Of course, he snored through my frustration and arousal, so I lay there quietly caressing myself, slipping a finger into my tight wetness. I gasped as I came, gently and privately.
I heard the bathroom door open and shut, the sound of the toilet roll spinning as I imagined Rich wiping away the evidence of his excitement, followed by the sound of a flush and him returning to bed, not realising we’d had a shared moment.
I woke up at five am, just before the alarm, feeling slightly guilty, I’d intruded on a private moment for our friend, mind you he’d invaded my, our, privacy by digging around in our intimate pictures in a way that if Jonny had woken up would have been the end of our friendship. The fact that I should have called him out on it rather than enjoyed the sight of him taking a wank over pictures of my tits was not lost on me. No, my guilt was for Jonny and feeling I’d somehow deceived him.
To atone for my guilt, I woke him up with my lips around his penis, sucking it as it grew in my mouth, enjoying the feel of it going from marshmallow softness to wood like rigidity. Once he was as big as he was going to get, I paused, taking my head away and looked closely at the swollen member, comparing it to the image in my head of Rich in the middle of the night. Jonny’s was definitely bigger. I could get two hands around it and still have some left at the top to put in my mouth, Rich was almost covered by one of his hands. I was intrigued by that big ridge on his head though.
I went back to work, smiling round the not so bulbous head as I licked around the ridges below before slipping it into my mouth again, sucking hard I felt his thighs twitch. I knew that sign, he was close. I bobbed my head faster, stroking my tongue over the tight skin, pushing him as far in as I could, he was very close now. I pushed him as deep in as I could, opening wide I pushed my tongue out, just managing to reach his balls with the tip as he shot into the back of my throat, once, twice. I squeezed with my fist as I pulled my mouth away, the shudders of his orgasm subsiding, I knelt up, smiled and said, “Will you miss me while you’re away?” then peeled off my pyjama top and hacked and coughed out the remaining cum that I hadn’t managed to swallow into it. Sophisticated is my middle name.
Promising he would miss me terribly, Jonny jumped in the en-suite shower. Across the hallway I heard Rich in the other shower, which set me thinking about him and what I was going to do. The feelings of strength and empowerment were still there, as was the arousal from being on display. With a smile I climbed out of bed and slipped on my dressing gown, waiting until both showers were off, I called out “I’ll put the kettle on. Tea for you both?”
Down in the kitchen I loosened my belt and practiced leaning forward so it looked as if I was unaware of being on display, I was a bit disappointed it didn’t seem I could show off all of my boobs, but I was able to flash an awful lot of cleavage and most of both breasts if I moved right, I felt a delicious anticipation building as I waited for my audience to arrive.
I was leaning on the table with a mug of tea to my mouth when Rich walked in, I’d taken the time to arrange myself so my boobs were showing. I was not disappointed, he spotted them almost immediately and poured himself a mug barely breaking eye contact. I’ll put his inability to speak down to the earliness of the hour, or my boobs. Boobs probably.
Jonny joined us, and I spent a few minutes bending over to get things, making certain I was facing Rich as often as possible. Before it got too obvious, I ran upstairs where I threw on a pair of jeans and a T shirt, I didn’t put on a bra and went back down feeling as if my nipples were about to cut through the thin cloth of my shirt, they were so pointy. Jonny and Rich both noticed, neither said a word, just enjoyed the view as I shimmied my way out to my car.
I dropped the boys at the airport at seven and was home and back in bed by eight thirty, I’d arranged to use up some TOIL, starting work after lunch. My manager, Bob Klos, had scheduled me to go and fix a virus problem at an ambulance station not far from home and once it was done, I was done. It was moderately straightforward, someone had used one of the office computers to play Resident Evil, which would have been ok except it was a dodgy bootleg copy that linked to a site in Russia that then infected the network with a nasty little virus sending everyone’s passwords back to St Petersburg.
Fortunately, our firewall detected it and shut down the local network. Unfortunately, because it had frozen out the WAN connection, we couldn’t fix it remotely and I had to spend three hours drinking insipid instant coffee and being flirted with by Tim Cherry, one of the older Paramedics, who seemed to think he was being charming, when in fact he was being sleazy and made my skin crawl.
I took a certain level of satisfaction in finding a significant amount of porn in his browser history and in line with corporate guidelines seizing the computer for checking by IT and HR. The satisfaction was tempered somewhat by the knowledge it would be me doing the checking and writing a report on what we’d found. I dropped it into my workshop ready to start on it first thing Monday.
I was home by 4.30, calling Bob from the car on the way to let him know problem solved and reports filed and to ask for an HR person to be requested for the PC check. He’s a good guy, another one that could double his salary working for a bank but stays where he is out of altruism and commitment.
The girls came round at seven, and we were on the second bottle by half past. I didn’t tell them about Rich and the midnight viewing but I did tell them about the accidental show of the underwear shot, which led to a demand that they saw it too.
It was a strange evening’s entertainment, flicking through what up until the day before had been the most private pictures we had. By the third bottle Gina was flicking through her phone for a picture of her husband stepping out of the shower. I proved I’m the best IT person we know and cast the image to the 85-inch tv, replacing me on the beach with Tony in the bathroom. Nice bit of manscaping, and someone clearly works out.
It was just his bad luck that Tony was duty driver and was giving Suze a lift home as well, so when he walked in, and we all burst out in hysterics we left it to Gina to come up with a plausible excuse. We got a group WhatsApp on Sunday filling us in on the story, just in case. She’d told him she’d told us his was the biggest cock she’d ever had and the first time they’d made love she was scared it wouldn’t fit. Bless, blokes will believe anything if it’s about how big their dick is.
Next morning, I stood in the shower reflecting on the events of Thursday evening / Friday morning as the hot water massaged away my slight headache. I’d been relatively sober, certainly sober enough to know what I was doing and even now more than twenty-four hours later the thought of being a fantasy object like that was incredibly arousing. I found myself wishing the pictures had been raunchier, maybe some more topless pictures. Maybe some nude stuff. Maybe I should have a talk with Jonny when he gets home, see what he thinks.
Who was I kidding I told myself with a laugh, I knew what he’d think. He would fall over himself in his enthusiasm to get the camera set up.
I stepped out into the bathroom, wiped the steam off the mirror and checked my reflection. If there was going to be a photo session in my near future, I needed to do some maintenance work. Decision made I reached for my razor and spent the next twenty minutes in a series of uncomfortable positions making myself silky smooth.
The rest of the day I spent wandering the shops, in Secret Rendezvous I picked up a bra and thong set with matching suspenders and stockings in black and red and an all-in-one lace body that covered me without concealing a thing. I spotted someone’s boyfriend or husband checking me out as I chose, he was a few years older than me, not quite full-on silver fox but a splash of grey in his otherwise dark brown hair on top of an attractive well-defined face and gave him a cheeky wink as I went up to pay.
On a wild impulse I changed direction and went into the changing room, pulling the curtain almost all the way across, but not quite. I left enough of a gap that from the right angle someone outside could see inside but from every other angle my modesty was maintained. I felt a rush of anticipation as the husband / boyfriend wandered into view. Keeping my eyes forward I tried my hardest to give the impression of being oblivious to my being on show and took off my top and bra, holding the piece I’d chosen up against my chest, then turning round and making a show of checking my bum in the mirror while in fact pushing my boobs forward to make them obvious for my observer.
I hung all the pieces up then stepped back to look in the mirror again, I watched myself as I grabbed both boobs and gave them a sensuous squeeze together then reached out again and selected my new bra, faffing around a bit as I put it on, adjusting each breast into its cup. Showing off apart, I did like it, the colours and fit were very flattering, giving me a lifted cleavage that swelled out in front of me, making my boobs seem to be at least a cup size or two bigger.
I admired myself a little longer then took it off, just putting my blouse on with even fewer buttons done up. I allowed myself a glance out, he was still there, trying to look like he wasn’t watching, almost snapping his neck so quickly did he change where he was looking. God I was turned on. I almost ran to the checkout to pay, getting there just in front of my new admirer. I paid, picked up my bags and turned, ‘accidentally’ dropping one of them so I had an opportunity to bend over and give him a good long view down my front, then I grabbed everything and rushed back to the car and home.
I sat in the kitchen on a giggling high. I’d been out waving my tits around like a pub stripper, and I absolutely loved the feeling of being objectified on my terms. I poured a large wine and tried to get some perspective but there was none. I’d deliberately let a total stranger watch me put on a show, and I’d loved every second of it. Part of the attraction I was certain was the pretence I didn’t know he was watching. In the same way if Rich had known I was watching him watching me the entire dynamic would have changed and real-life reactions would have taken over. It was the illicit showing off and being seen that was the turn on. I realised that if I was going to go down the more photographs path, I would want to find some way of getting Rich to see them while I could watch him watching them, without him knowing I was watching him watching me.
It was going to get very complicated if I wasn’t careful.
I was at the airport waiting on Sunday afternoon, spotting them coming through into the arrivals hall with their new Ireland tops. Big smiles, waving and hugs with a proper welcome home kiss for Jonny.
I was on edge for Rich’s hug, alert for any inappropriate squeeze or lingering pressure between my chest and his but it was like hugging your brother. I was partly disappointed but mainly very pleased there was no weirdness, apart of course from me watching him wanking over pictures of me in my lingerie. Except no one apart from me knew about that so it wasn’t weird at all. No sir, not one bit.
If I’d been asked to guess what sort of state they’d been in for the two days they’d been away I’d have said “hammered” and it turned out I was right, the Guinness had flowed from the moment they landed until the moment they took off again, tour rules of ‘Eatin’s cheatin’ were brought in, then dropped again in favour of only eating something with a local connection. They’d pretty much existed on Guinness, Murphy’s, Irish Stew and cheese and onion Taytos.
We dropped Rich off at home and were back at ours by 4.30. I pushed Jonny into the shower, the overpowering scent of stale beer was not doing it for me. Once he was clean and smelling of soap and shampoo I was much more welcoming. Unfortunately for me and my new underwear his lack of sleep and excess of beer meant he was spark out by 8, leaving me to enjoy the Strictly results show in relative peace, disturbed only by his gentle snores.
It wasn’t until the next evening that I sat him down with a beer and broached the subject.
I told him how the thought of someone else seeing the pictures of me was a turn on, and how I’d quite like to see how I felt about doing some more pictures if he didn’t mind. I added that this was NOT an invitation to show all and sundry, that was a fantasy and if he wanted to do any home photography, I needed his promise. Which I got instantly; I knew I would, for lots of reasons.
I didn’t mention my deep desire to arrange an accidental viewing for Rich at some point, I didn’t think it would end well.
I gave him a fashion parade of my new purchases, and a few old favourites, just to get him in the right frame of mind but it was too late to set up all the equipment and have time to go that evening, so we fell into bed in a tumble of limbs and lingerie, lingerie that didn’t stay attached to me for long. It was not an evening for long bouts of foreplay, I turned round with my chest on the mattress and my bum in the air, a finger gently caressing myself as I waited for him to get naked. It seemed to take longer than I expected, although the finger was nice it wasn’t what I was waiting for, and it was my own finger. I peered backwards under myself. I could see he was naked, and ready to go. “What’s up, are you going to come and get me or not?” I asked.
He gave a small non-committal grunt. “I was enjoying watching, I thought you said it lit you up, being watched. Don’t stop.” I could hear the laughter in his voice. I added a second finger, slipping both into my soft wetness.
“If you don’t get on with it, I’ll finish on my own and you can go to sleep frustrated.”
Rather than try a smart comeback he got up on the bed behind me, his hot swollen cock rubbed along my open pussy and slammed in, hard enough to make me gasp. I pushed back, we settled into a synchronised movement, ooh it was going to be quick, I rubbed hard on my clit, enjoying the feeling of his hot stiff shaft sliding into me under my fingertips.
In an effort to delay things slightly I pulled forward, rolling down and over in a twisting spinning motion, wrapping my legs around his back and pulling him down onto me to enter me again face to face. He had his hands on my boobs, crushing them together, I locked my arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss him, my tongue diving deep into his mouth.
My smooth pussy ground against his groin sending bursts of pleasure through my mind. My delaying efforts weren’t working, I threw my hips up with a panting cry as I orgasmed on his hard cock. He wasn’t far behind, building up the speed to a rapid hammering and shooting deep inside me with a shout of his own.
The next day was a pain at work, my reports from Friday had gone into HR and I found myself summoned to make a statement, it seems this wasn’t the first questionable activity form Mr Cherry, he had a number of charges of inappropriate behaviour and misuse of NHS property and it looked like he was in deep doo-doo this time around. To be fair I didn’t have much sympathy, he was a sleaze bag that made me feel uncomfortable to be in the same room unaccompanied, and presumably I wasn’t the only one. I’m pretty sure he was the type that would complain “You just can’t say anything to a female these days. The world’s gone mad” whilst asking if she felt faint because her shirt seemed very tight around the chest.
I did wonder to myself what the difference was, why it was OK for me to get hot at the thought of the guy in Secret Rendezvous having a free show but unwanted attention from the aging bald-headed lothario made my skin crawl. I think it was to do with boundaries and consent, I was fully aware of what I was doing with the changing room curtain, I was in control, my body, my rules. In the Ambulance station it was inappropriate, out of place and unwanted.
I was released by HR and went back to the workshop with a junior HR administrator named Sindhu, all primed for an afternoon logging inappropriate internet use, which is almost as dull as it sounds.
There was one site that seemed to be a favourite, it was different in that it was only still pictures, but they were all extremely high resolution and extremely well done in terms of composition and form. It seemed to be mainly one couple, a woman in her late twenties and a man in his early thirties, but with a few shots with one other man and woman but always with at least one of the main couple.
I clicked on the home tab on the website and discovered it was a personal intimate boudoir shoot by a company named “Intimate Encounters” in Bath, about two hours away. I made a mental note of the URL to share with Jonny at some suitable moment.
Sindhu and I finished our report, there was nothing truly shocking in the browser history, but it was all inappropriate for work, she let me know I’d probably be called in for the disciplinary hearing and could I see if there was any way of proving beyond all doubt who was using the PC when the sites were accessed.
I cross referenced to call out records and the building swipe entry system to show there was only one person there on every occasion, which while circumstantial was enough to get Tim Cherry called in for a discussion without coffee.
I got home to find Jonny was already there, the living room had been tidied and had a couple of flash diffusers, a white background screen and a leather chaise longue set up at one end, the other had all the furniture crammed into half the room.
I looked round, “Where did all this come from?” I asked, a little concerned at the cost.
“I rented it, fifty quid if I can get it back tomorrow, a hundred until Monday.”
He had a bit of a naughty schoolboy caught out look about him, which disappeared as soon as I said “Well, we’d better get started then. Pour me a wine, I’ll go and get changed.”
It started out quite well, we got some nice pictures of me in my new lingerie, and I was getting into showing off my body. Thoughts of how I could get to see the effect they had on Jonny’s friend were lurking in the dark naughty parts of my mind and I found myself imagining him watching as I pushed my boobs together and blew a kiss into the camera.
Jonny was happy to follow as far as I was prepared to go, and it turned out that was pretty far. I was kneeling on the bed, my bum in the air, naked from the waist down and with a flimsy red bra barely holding my boobs in, two fingers slipping into my soaking wet pussy as Jonny knelt behind taking shot after shot.
“Put the camera on the tripod and set the timer, I want you inside me” I practically begged.
It turns out we can either have nice sex or we can take pictures, we can’t do both. The delay waiting for the camera to snap was frustrating, the constant stopping to reset the scene or even to press the shutter again ruined the moment, in the end we set it to video mode and finished off screwing on the chaise longue.
Looking back at the results on the laptop in bed was nice enough, but there were hardly any worth keeping and none with both of us in. The video clip was dull, a single angle from a fixed camera meant a lot of the activity was out of shot. I mean, it got us hot enough, but it wasn’t anything I wanted to keep. It worked in as far as we switched off the laptop and I straddled Jonny. Lowering onto him I leaned back slightly, arching my back to make my boobs look better and giving him a great view of his cock disappearing into me. I lifted his hand up to my mouth, sucking in his fingers to wet them then pushed him onto my clit. I was still turned on from the photo session and looking at my pictures had a raw sexuality that added to my arousal, pretty soon I was thrashing my head around, my blonde bob whipping my cheeks as I shouted out his name. I collapsed onto his chest, exhausted.
Smiling I kissed him and said “Goodnight.” I can be mean sometimes, his disappointed face was a joy to behold, what made it better was the look of pleasure as I rolled off and pulled my knees up to my chest. He didn’t take long either, pulling out at the last minute and sending a couple of jets across my shaved pussy. I lay there and sent him off for a towel, curling up next to him when we were both wiped down and falling asleep naked in each other’s arms.
At breakfast we talked about the results of the home photoshoot. I didn’t mind making they effort, but the return was disappointing, the delay holding a position waiting for the timer was frustrating and made it hard work, not fun. I lifted up my iPad and looked up the Intimate Encounters site, I couldn’t access the photoset I’d seen on Cherry’s computer, but they had enough in the way of less explicit examples on their guest pages that it was clear what they offered.
Their prices were just short of eye-watering though. You could get a second-hand hatchback for the cost of their full-service offer, and once we’d seen the cost the idea seemed less intriguing.
I gave him a kiss and told him we just needed to practice, I did have a little stirring inside at the thought of being watched and having a set of pictures of our own, but not at those prices.
I was in the car on my way into the office a week or two later when I got a call from a number I didn’t recognise.
I tapped the screen and a slight west country accented female voice asked if I was Louise Hartley, which of course I am so I said yes.
“Oh, good morning Louise, I’m Charlotte from the studio. Did you want to book your visit today at all?”
I had absolutely no clue what she was on about and asked for some clarification.
“Yes, your husband booked our full-service day session for you both and asked me to check availability with you.”
I told her I’d call back and hung up, telling Siri to call Jonny, Mobile.
“You alone Jonny? Able to talk?” He confirmed he was alone and able to talk, and sounded very pleased with himself when I hit him with “Where are we going to get a spare five grand from? I just had a call from that studio saying you’d booked the full service. We can’t afford that.”
“Well, you know how I’ve been so busy and stressed the past six months? It’s been because Pete Waters got promoted to regional director and I was left running all his jobs. I’ve impressed some people up the food chain and I wanted to tell you tonight with a bottle of champagne but I’m going to be in Exeter until late, so I thought I’d book something exciting. I’m the new southwestern regional manager, and they’ve backdated my salary for six months. Go ahead and book it.”
So, I did. I booked the full-service session. I’ll tell you about that, and what happened afterwards, later. XX