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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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Cathy's Fantasy
by Miles Naismith (mnaismith@hotmail.com)
***
Cathy finds she enjoys exhibitionism and although she's
conservative in every other way, showing off her body is
the one thing she can't help but do. (MF, exh)
***
My name is Cathy. I have been married to the same man
since I was nineteen, and I now have four children. I am
pretty much the normal monogamous soccer mom except for
one thing... I get off on exhibitionism and so does my
husband.
I first realized that I was an exhibitionist when I was
in high school. My family had moved to California from
the East and I rapidly adjusted to being a (modest) two
piece swim suit wearing denizen of the beach in the
Summer before my Senior year. I was quite surprised when
my boyfriend (later husband) from back East showed up to
be with me.
He was a rising college junior with some part-time
experience in news photography, and he had brought his
cameras. We (much) later agreed that I would try to
return East to marry him, but while we still thought he
would return alone and our romance would be long
distance if it lasted, he asked me to pose for some
pictures. He said he needed some to take back to
remember me by in the cold lonely winter. Naturally,
(after all, he was a man,) he tried to talk me into
showing a little skin for the camera.
He didn't know it, but his visit had already given me
the opportunity to indulge in some daring behavior far
beyond my normal limits at the time. Already we were
spending every evening together, often alone in his
motel room. That had a bed in it. We had progressed
farther in making out than I had allowed before. Why
not?
I suspected, as serious as it seemed between us, that
our romance would not survive separation when he left
for school, and that I would never see him again. My
feelings for him made me want to be intimate, and I did
not have to worry about my actions becoming local gossip
as I would have had he been a local boy. He was a
college man, and he seemed more experienced than my
previous boyfriends, but I didn't feel threatened. I saw
a chance in him and this summer together to experiment
and to be naughty without it getting back to haunt me.
So, scared but tingly, I let him talk me into
unbuttoning my blouse and showing my white cotton bra.
Even though his argument that my bra was less revealing
than the top to my swim suit was true, the butterflies
in my stomach fluttered in unison when the shutter
clicked the first time. They had settled down a bit
after a few exposures, to coin a phrase, but they rose
again when he walked over and pulled both straps down my
shoulders.
I knew where the session was heading when I undid the
first button, but until he pushed the right cup under my
breast and stepped back to snap the picture, I did not
know whether I would go through with exposing my breasts
to the camera. The ice having been broken, I was more
quick to comply when he asked me take off my bra
completely.
But standing there topless, worried about having the
permanent record and self-conscious that I had only
developed to a B-cup by then, my doubts momentarily
overcame me, and I slipped on my blouse. Being
summertime at the beach in California, I don't think he
believed me when I said I was cold. I'm sure he was
disappointed, and so was I.
I just knew I would never have another opportunity to
anything like this in my life (amazing how final all
things seem to the young) and I loved the feeling of
acting out the forbidden that my laughingly modest
actions had given me so far. Finally I put all thoughts
of chickening out aside, and embarrassed but game, lay
back on the bed, my unbuttoned blouse falling to the
sides, exposing both breasts to the camera.
As you might imagine, he wasn't satisfied with merely
topless, and I let myself be gradually talked into
posing completely nude. I worried out loud that he might
show these pictures to others, and speculated that I had
lost my mind to be doing this, but each click of the
camera and each admiring remark made me more excited at
my daring.
He might have been disappointed to know at the time, but
he was only peripheral to my responses while making out
that evening... my mind was one enormous erogenous zone
as I thought about him looking at those pictures, and
maybe showing them to friends we both knew back East.
I was hooked on the feeling I got showing myself off
that evening, and we have continued our play throughout
our marriage. Although most of our fun involved the two
of us and a camera, I have had some experiences showing
myself in person to others, such as the occasional
flashing of a truck driver on the road. In addition, I
worked for a while as a model, most steadily through the
Barbizon agency.
Most of my work was done fully clothed - advertisements
and the like - but I did do some figure studies for
photographers. It was one of those experiences that
produces one of my most potent fantasies, one I would
like to share with you. As you read this, I will tell
you that during my modeling days I did pose (with two
different men) for some "Love Portraits," and some of
the story below is true, but my fantasies are always
better in my mind than the bare facts.
***
My nipples were hard and my skin tingled even before I
opened the door to Dean's studio. Dean was a friend and
a local photographer who had hired me to pose for some
"Love Portraits." These were supposed to be tasteful
shots of married couples in erotic but not explicit
poses. Dean had gone to some professional photographers'
convention where they had touted this type of picture as
the next gold mine of specialty photography. He wanted
some brochures and a portfolio to use in marketing the
concept to his customers.
This was long before the current fad for "boudoir
photography," and I thought he was fooling himself as to
the market for this stuff, but I was a professional
model and he was willing to pay. He had originally
assured me that topless would be enough, but the first
two sessions had ended with both me and the male model
completely nude. Both times I had objected to removing
my bottoms, but Dean is a persuasive guy who had a way
of appealing to my professionalism.
In the end I had finally agreed that he could not always
crop out the bottoms and still get the desired effect
for his marketing photos. After all, he expected that
the customers for this type of photo would want to pose
nude. Looking back, I guess I secretly wanted to be
talked into it, but it was not a conscious desire at the
time.
The first two sessions really were harmless, but it had
been fun to work nude with strangers. To judge by my
husband, women truly are not as visually oriented as
men, but having the chance to see the privates of these
strangers did scratch an itch of curiosity I normally
don't even realize that I have. But the real fun was in
my mind.
It was entertaining to watch the two men struggle, only
partially successfully, to keep from exhibiting the
visible evidence of their arousal at posing nude with
me. For some reason Dean had used amateurs for his male
models, and they did not have the experience to see the
session as a job - it looked to them like it looked to
the camera, a bare couple modestly making out.
These first two sessions were too awkward for anything
more than a slight sexual tension at the exhibitionist
circumstances to build in me, but it affected the guys.
My husband and I had argued over this job after he saw
the proof sheets from the first two sessions. I had
modeled nude before for professional photographers, so
having another man see me naked was not a problem. It
was posing nude with another man that gave him a
problem.
Although I told him truthfully that the sessions were
harmless, the thought of other nude men touching my nude
body touched a nerve in him. He didn't want me to go
back for the final scheduled session. The final session
was scheduled from the start for full nudity and more
intimate-looking poses.
After a long discussion culminating in my observation
that he had benefitted from my increased libido after
each of those sessions, and the grudging admission that
he found the pictures of me with the others perversely
exciting, my husband reluctantly consented to let me
fulfill my modeling obligation by finishing out the
series.
I guess it is a good thing the camera had not caught the
squeezes I could not resist giving to the penises of
each of the male models in the first two sessions.
Though neither given nor taken as an invitation, but
rather as a way of defusing some of the tension (or
maybe increasing it, as I was having fun pushing these
guys' buttons), I doubt that my husband would have
reacted well to the knowledge of such contact.
I had reacted well, however, and feeling the results
against my thigh or buttock as the session progressed
made me feel powerfully sexy and wicked, without being
really bad. Thus the tingle as I entered the studio,
knowing that I would soon be skin to skin in an intimate
embrace with a nude man not my husband.
Do not mistake me here, I had no intention of being
unfaithful. I love my husband and we were not swingers.
In fact it was the monogamy that made this job so
exciting... how else could a faithful wife indulge a
little fantasy of outside naughtiness with an attentive
male other than her husband.
Most wives would have no such chance, except in the
unwelcome, at least to me, context of someone making an
actual pass at them. My job gave me a once in a lifetime
opportunity to act it out safely, and with my husband's
permission, however grudgingly given.
I was surprised to see that my modeling partner for the
last session would be "Sam," the model from the first
shoot. Since the second session had not used Sam, I had
unconsciously expected a third man for the final shoot.
At first vaguely disappointed that I would not have a
new victim -- I mean modeling partner -- I quickly found
that the lack of novelty was made up for by the more
relaxed atmosphere resulting from our earlier experience
together. Sam was much more comfortable, and did not
hesitate to run his hands over my body for the camera.
Gone was the hesitancy from the first shoot, replaced
with an attitude that suggested my body fair game to his
touch.
As we started with rather tame poses, I immediately
noticed a difference. Standing behind me in one shot,
Sam maneuvered his semi-erect penis into the middle of
my buttocks and then slowly increased and decreased
pressure. In another pose, face to face, his erection
had grown enough that the only place to hide it was in
the junction of my thighs.
At one point he ran his finger down my spine, and then
slowly continued, pressing ever so slightly between my
cheeks. He was careful not to do anything too overt, so
I didn't want to complain out loud, but propriety made
me give him some dirty looks between shots to show
disapproval. After all, I was married.
Propriety aside, I was also getting very turned on,
although I was not about to admit it. For the first time
in my career, the modeling began to feel less like a job
from which I could disassociate from the inner me and
more like a personal encounter. Sam's subtle contact was
getting to me and that was not part of my plan.
Finally, Sam boldly reached out and cupped my breast,
taking the nipple in a fold of his palm. Dean was
delighted. Surprised by my reaction, I found that I
wanted him to continue. Though I did not help, I made no
move to stop the hand that was squeezing my breast. I
was not thinking of my husband just then; I was caught
up in an exhibitionist fantasy knowing two men were
watching this intimate caress.
I did not think of my husband until Sam calmly bent down
and sucked my nipple into his mouth. Dean had just said
he had had customers that wanted examples of more
overtly sexy poses, and Sam was more than willing to
comply. As his tongue flicked my erect nipple, Dean
clicked away with the camera. I froze, leaning back on
my elbows, anxiously anticipating what my husband would
say when he saw these pictures.
Suddenly Sam's swirling motion sent a shiver of pleasure
from my sensitive breasts to my brain, made all the more
intense because it wasn't my husband's tongue. I could
not pull back. I raised my chest to offer myself,
cupping one of my breasts with my own hand up to his
mouth.
I knew coming in that this session would be more sensual
than the last, but this was far beyond the limit I had
set for myself. This was real foreplay, not just posing,
and it was beginning to affect me. The lights and the
camera and the most unromantic sprawl of cables and
hardware never seen in the resulting pictures that
usually keep me from getting mentally engaged in what I
am doing were not enough to keep me from reacting this
time. I knew I should stop.
But I had had a long term fantasy about being watched
while making love, and in my fantasy, my partner was a
nameless stranger, not my husband. This partner had a
name, but he was a stranger. At some rational level my
mind said "Stop!" but the pleasure center sent a
conflicting message. My body knew how to react even if
my reasoning became a little fuzzy. I was enjoying this
and wanted to continue.
I felt safe with Sam, and Dean was a friend. I
instinctively knew they would respect my wishes if I
insisted on stopping. I told myself it would be
unprofessional not to see the job through, and that I
could stop before anything serious happened. I
rationalized that a little foreplay was not the same as
infidelity, especially when Dean was telling us again
and again how these poses were just what he needed.
Dean said he needed a passionate kiss on film. Sam
immediately turned me toward him and tried to lick my
tonsils. I don't know why that surprised me so, after
what had gone before, but it did. We had not truly
kissed in either session up to that point. Startled, I
felt unable to move, like a deer the headlights of a
car.
I offered no resistance as Sam laid me back to recline
against the black velvet backdrop and bent over me to
continue the kiss. His hand went back to my breast while
Dean urged us on. I was very excited, and wanted more. I
had truly lost contact with the realities of what was
happening. It was almost as if I had forgotten that I
was married and the serious consequences my behavior
could have had.
I did not even notice that I had let my legs spread
apart slightly for the first time in the session, but
Sam did. His hand moved down and he rested his finger
tips on my mons, ruffling the hair. When I did not
resist, he shifted his fingers down to my outer lips and
moved them softly on the outside.
I could feel myself getting damp, and I wondered what I
would do if he tried to push a finger in me. Just then
Dean said he wanted a new pose. I moaned involuntarily
as Sam gave me a little squeeze before moving his hand
away. I was frustrated at this sudden stop, but happy
that we had not gone too far. Yet.
I was a little shocked when Dean said he needed some
poses of simulated intercourse. He was a friend of both
me and my husband and I didn't understand how he could
ask this of me. But Sam didn't waste any time. He moved
above me while Dean said it was just playacting, like
the movies, reiterating that it was purely professional
and that he would not allow anything pornographic-
looking to be printed.
Refusing to think about the consequences, fired by two
hours of hot, sweaty foreplay, I silently opened my
legs. By now Sam was not just semi-erect, he was hard
and ready for action. I was not going to let him screw
me, however turned on I was, so I reached between us and
guided his erection up on my mons as he settled down
into the classic missionary position.
Sam and I relaxed a little as we overcame our self-
consciousness at this compromising position. I was hot
as hell, and part of me wanted to take Sam in and screw
him until we exploded. He was not helping me retain my
innocence either, as he ever so subtly shifted position
between my widespread legs.
I felt we verged on pornographic, but Dean said it
looked unnatural. He said we needed a more dynamic look,
that we were too static. Sam immediately began to rock
his pelvis back and forth, simulating sex. Soon both of
us were into our roles, and the movements and sounds we
made were not all the result of acting. If the session
had been hot for me before, this was incredible.
A shift in his position caused his now rock hard penis
to slide back and forth on my slit, and soon my body was
answering his thrusts on its own. Dean was happily
voicing his approval; I'm sure it looked and sounded to
him as if Sam and I actually were screwing our brains
out on his backdrop.
As my lubrication flowed, Sam's erection slowly parted
my lips and rode between them, occasionally nudging the
entrance to my vagina. I'm sure Sam wanted to plunge
into me, but I was not too far gone to shift my hips
whenever the tip of his penis started in somewhere it
shouldn't be... except for one brief period when the
friction against my most sensitive part caused my
involuntary release.
Thank God Sam did not take advantage of my loss of
control, for I might not have been able to stop him.
Maybe he did not know; I tried to disguise it.
Only after the session did I realize the full extent of
what I had done. I begged Dean not to use any of the
photos taken in the last part of the shoot. He promised
to be discrete. I left still technically faithful, but I
only hoped I'd never have to explain these photos to my
husband...
END
More stories by this author: www.asstr.org/~mnaismith/
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 68