A Fantasy Come True

No-one really liked Emma. She just seemed to have drifted into the group by accident. They had met, originally, when expecting babies at an ante-natal class, had bonded, and now, almost ten years later, were a firm social group, often involving their partners and children. Emma had split with her partner, and her son now lived with him, because, she said, she was 'focused on her career'. Her career as an administrator in a local factory.

Maybe it was because Emma was on her own that she clung to the group. Somehow, she always found out where and when they were meeting, and would wander in 'fashionably late', as if making a special guest appearance, awaiting adulation from the group. They were polite, which must have massaged her fragile ego.

That was why the small group was set up on a messaging app. Finally, somewhere to chat, away from Emma. Sadly, it still did not stop her appearing whenever they met. Someone MUST have been telling her.

The biggest problem was that she seemed to be very financially well off. She had a large house, designer clothes, an annoying small dog, a fancy car and some new body modification every time they saw her. She had magnificent hairstyles, pouting lips, fake tan (as orange as some politicians - and equally fake), tattoos, a tummy tuck, buttock lifts and breast implants - and all despite the personal trainer who visited her once a week to ensure she kept in shape.

When she walked into a room, every head turned, the men took in her stunning figure, looked at her sculpted face and coiffed hair, along with the layers of make-up, and after brief admiration, turned away. She looked high maintenance and artificial. As one husband in the group said: "If she was as hot as she thinks, the plastic'd melt."

Her values might have been fine with other superficial groups, but not the ante-natal group. Most were full-time mums or had part-time jobs to allow time for family. Their husbands had a range of jobs, from University lecturers on adequate salaries to factory workers, barely making ends meet. In the current financial crisis, all were struggling, but smiling, getting by as best they could, without excess spending and putting the needs of their families first.

The final straw was when she seduced one of their husbands. The marriage had not survived. The group learned later that, in all honesty, the marriage had been hanging by a thread anyway. He had shown little interest in his wife since their child was born, and had barely been there as a parent - he was either 'working late' or in the pub.

Emma had appeared in the pub one evening, and, according to witnesses (as both husband and wife were regulars), made a beeline for him. She was very 'touchy-feely', showed him her tattoos and, when he had imbibed several pints, began running her hand up and down his thigh, so close to the top that she must have touched his genitals. She had taken him outside, stating loudly that they were going to her house for a while.

Mary, his wife, had not been too bothered. She said that it was nice not to have two children to sort out every day, although she was livid with Emma for the ostentatious way she had handled the seduction. Both she and her husband had looked like fools, and she felt very uncomfortable about going to the pub again - a pub which she had visited a couple of times a week before that.

They met every month, wearing their outfits bought from supermarkets or charity shops, either for a walk or a coffee or - very occasionally - at the pub. Often partners would stay at home, but, just occasionally, they too would join in, especially if the meeting was in the daytime.

When the group met, things would begin with everyone chatting, then split off into male and female groups - the men discussing sport, work and bad jokes, while the women began talking about their children, before moving on to the inadequacies of their partners and their declining sex lives.

Then Emma would arrive. She would flit between the groups, seeking approval from the men while telling them about her latest body modification or showing them her tattoos (some were low on her breasts, others on her buttocks, one close to her groin) and regaling the women with tales of her lurid sex life, carried out via a swinging website, and her latest clothing/jewellery/holiday extravagance.

So the messaging group was established. Emma regularly featured in the conversations, with casual suggestions as to how to deflate her artificially inflated self-esteem. Gradually, however, these stopped being jokes, and became more forceful, and more real. It was Judy who eventually came up with an idea which met with approval, and steadily, the trap was set.

The get-together was going well. It was lovely weather in early Summer, and they had decided to go for a walk. Emma had appeared at the last minute in her usual designer outfit. She spent fifteen minutes telling Helen, Kathy and Karen how her clothing was made of recycled goods by a marvellous company and only cost a hundred and fifty pounds. For shorts, a t-shirt and gilet, that seemed absurd - until she added, in a stage whisper, when a couple of the men were close, that her underwear was far more expensive.

She then dropped back to talk to one of the men.

"So how much did your underwear cost?" He asked.

"Well," Emma smirked, "my bra was almost two hundred pounds, and my knickers were a hundred and twenty. Mind you, I'm happier with them off, to be honest."

Steve decided to ignore the hint and looked miserable. "I wish Judy'd wear something like that. Her bras are like scaffolding and her knickers are faded cotton with holes in the gusset and knackered elastic."

Emma laughed.

"No, really," said Steve, she doesn't make any effort. I've given up on any..." He stopped, aware that he might be giving too much information.

"Don't worry," encouraged Emma, "you can tell me. I'm very open-minded." She giggled. "I met a couple last week who were into all sorts. We did some bondage, anal, me and the wife had some fun. I'm bisexual, you know. Then we were both spanked. After that, we played some more and he had sex with both of us. I love being tied up, y'know - and spanked. It's a lot of fun. Have you tried it?"

Steve admitted he hadn't, but wished he could. "Judy's just not interested. Even if she were, we'd never do anything like that. With her, it's always been just a quickie, turn over, go to sleep. Half the time, we didn't take out pyjamas off."

"Oh dear," Emma tittered. "I would've offered to join you and give you a few tips, but sounds like she wouldn't be interested. Shame. You're a good-looking man, and she's OK. A bit flabby since the kids, and could've done a bit more to keep in shape, but OK. I'd have been happy to play with you. You should look up my profile."

She mentioned both the website and her user name - 'starlet 97' - and smiled, seductively. Well - Steve thought it was a smile - with all her botox, it was hard to be sure.

"Thanks," he smiled, wanly, "frankly, I have considered looking elsewhere, but I couldn't do it to the kids."

"There's plenty of married blokes on the site," Emma continued, "just a matter of being careful, really." She winked and strolled off to share her wisdom with Jane.

A few days later, Steve smiled. He had thought Emma was just teasing, but his message had received a reply.

"Hey. Glad you made it. If you decided to meet, let me know. We can be very discreet x"

Steve smiled to himself. He had registered on the site the day after his conversation with Emma, and immediately gone to her profile. She was offering herself as a twenty-six year old (seriously? Her son was ten), natural blonde (really?), with perfect curves (created in an operating theatre), up for anything 'with the right man, woman or couple'. Apparently, she liked bondage, anal, bdsm, adult parties, sex clubs, photos, videos, dressing up, exhibitionism and a few other choice activities.

Steve noted that she was 'open to persuasion' (presumably a euphemism for payment) and 420 friendly. He looked it up - it meant using drugs. The main emphasis was that everything was a one-time deal. She was determined to experience 'as much as possible and as many as many as possible'.

Steve had decided to send her a message - just to let her know he had followed his suggestion - saying:

"Hi. Thought I'd have a look here. It's amazing. Seem to be a lot of single men here, but I might get lucky. I've put up some pics, but think they might be a little tame, having looked at the others. Might do some naughtier ones - not good with selfies though. Just going to be careful, chat and maybe meet someone eventually. Not just yet though. Take care. Steve"

His profile had been quite vague - 'Just trying this out, but would love to meet easy-going lady for NSA fun. Might need to chat a bit as I'm quite nervous, but genuinely want this. I'm polite and respectful and very discreet. Never had complaints about my sexual performance. I play sports and am quite fit with an athletic body.'

He could sort it out later as he went along.

He took some photographs of his torso, and found some of himself on the beach. He also added a couple that Judy had taken of him in boxer shorts one night when they had been drunk and taken sexy photos of each other (they had ended up with sets of full naked photos, performing sexual acts, which had been a lot of fun). These clearly showed the outline of his semi-erect penis, and made it look quite impressive.

Emma's photos put his to shame. They looked professional. She wore a bikini, lingerie, all manner of sexy clothing, yet, surprisingly, none were too revealing, unlike many on the site, and there were none of her face. Some might have wondered if the photos had simply been downloaded from elsewhere, but Steve recognised the tattoos. They were definitely Emma, and he felt embarrassed looking at them.

Over the next few weeks, the messages flowed between them. Emma wanted Steve to upload more intimate photographs, but he said he was not ready. She offered to take the photos, saying he could take some of her, offering to pose naked. She said it could just be a photoshoot, nothing more if he preferred. He liked the idea, as photography was one of his hobbies, and said he would think about it. He had plenty of photos of himself naked - but...

Steve dug out his camera. He hadn't used it in a while. His chats with Emma had sparked his interest again, and he cleaned his lenses and camera body, recharged the batteries and started rediscovering his passion. He took photos around the house, went into the local countryside and even took a few in more populous settings in town and even the local supermarket. As he looked at the results, he decided he was actually quite good.

Still the messages flowed, Steve's agonising did not seem to frustrate Emma, and when the group met up on one occasion, she made a point of taking him aside and flirting, showing him a tattoo on her buttock, and another on her breast, which was so close to her nipple, he could actually see her areola. Only when Judy called him did he move away from her.

Finally, after almost two months, he sent a message.

"OK. Let's do it. Just the photos. Can we do it outdoors somewhere? You can't come here, and if anyone sees my car at yours, I'm fucked - and not in a good way. How about the nature reserve? Lots of private places there."

She replied almost immediately.

Starlet 97: "Sure. I'll wear sexy lingerie, a couple of nice outfits. Shall I bring some toys?"

Genguy86: "Can we do something a bit naughty? You get there on your own. I'm a photographer hiding in the bushes and see you. You decide to strip off and sunbathe. You start feeling sexy and use one of your toys. Then you spot me and make me come out and force me to pose for you. It's a sort of fantasy of mine. Is it kinky?"

Starlet 97: "Mmm... I like role play. You could wait till I'm there and I'll let you know where I am. Once you're in position, let me know and we can start. What if I tell you I want to do some photos with both of us? If it's proper role play we can follow it through to the end."

Genguy86: "I suppose so. Perhaps see how it goes. Are you talking about sex?"

Starlet 97: "Well. If I'm in charge, could be anything. Does your camera have an automatic setting?"

Genguy86: "I think so. Just checking. Yes. Can take photos every 10 secs or 30 secs. Is that what you meant?"

Starlet 97: "Perfect. So we can both be in the pictures. Mmm... all sorts of possibilities. I love role play, but only if it's followed through properly."

Genguy86: "I suppose so. I'll try, but if it's too much for me, I might run."

Starlet 97: "Lol. I'll take it slow and gentle. Don't worry. I'll be very discreet. Shall we say next Thursday? 2:00?"

Genguy86: "I'll book an afternoon off work. Gotta go. Kids around. Probably chat before Thurs."

Starlet 97: "If we don't chat, I'll leave my number here for you on Weds."

Genguy86: "OK. Bye x"

Starlet 97: "Bye x"

He logged off and sat back. It sounded fun. Plenty of sexy photos, and he wouldn't have to do a thing. No way could she make him.

The days passed until Thursday, and Steve avoided going on line until Wednesday night. After Judy had gone to bed, however, he checked in and found that she had, as promised, left her phone number. He had half hoped that she would not get in touch - after all, without the number, the role play would not happen, and he could avoid turning up. Now, there was no way out without losing face.

The following day, he got up early and placed his camera in the boot of his car before Judy was up, and when she appeared, was making coffee. He then popped upstairs to wake their son for school, while Judy sorted out breakfast.

His morning dragged, and by the time he had his usual sandwich for lunch, he was feeling very turned on. When he arrived at the nature reserve car park, fifteen minutes before the agreed time, he was pleased to see just one car - Emma's BMW i8 Roadster - parked up. He pulled in at the opposite end of the carpark, retrieved his camera case from the boot and took out his phone and began to text.

Steve: I'm in the car park. Where are you?

Emma: By the lake. Go down the path till you get to the woods. Keep going till you see a little path between two white trees. On your right. Follow the path and it gets to a little clear bit by the lake. I'm there. Tell me when you're ready xx

He fired off another quick text and set off, striding confidently.

He reached the birch trees (which he assumed was what Emma meant by 'white trees' and left the path. He followed a narrow but clear trail, and finally spotted a clear space on the bank of the lake. In the middle, Emma was sitting on a picnic rug. She looked amazing, in a stylish skirt and top, her hair styled beautifully for the occasion, and wearing high heels, which she must have put on after she arrived.

Beside her, instead of her usual designer handbag was a much larger canvas bag, with 'Christian Dior' written on the side. Steve was inquisitive, and opened his phone to see if this apparently normal bag was as expensive as her usual accessories. His eyes popped at a price tag of over two thousand pounds. He set up his camera, fixed the lens and took a couple of test shots, just to ensure that he would get the photos he wanted.

He looked around the clearing, just to make certain that no-one else was in sight, and sent Emma a text.

Steve: Ready when you are.

Emma looked around, smiled and stretched. Her breasts pushed against the fabric of her top, nipples very evident. She stood and scratched her leg, raising her skirt to show that she wore stockings, rather than tights. Then she made a show of looking around.

She bent down, presenting her artificially bubbly buttocks perfectly. She reached into her bag and took something out. At first Steve was unsure what it was. He zoomed in on it, and his stomach flipped as he saw a large, rabbit vibrator. This was perfect. Was she really planning to masturbate for him? It seemed that she was.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out to see if it needed a reply. It was just Judy. He read it quickly and returned the phone to his pocket.

Emma placed the vibrator beside her and began to unbutton her top, slowly. As it fell open, her hands reached inside, rubbing over her breasts, head back, pinching her rigid nipples through the fabric - either Agent Provocateur, or Fleur of England, and those tended to be her preferred lingerie brands. It made Judy's 'George at Asda' underwear look very bland.

As Steve took photos, she slipped the top off, folded it and looked around again. She did not look towards Steve, so he was confident that he was still hidden.

She reached behind her and unzipped her skirt. She slid it down her legs, bending forwards to offer a tempting view of her arse, covered by delicate lace, high legged, framing each buttock and sliding between her cheeks a little. He could see the tattoos - designs based on eastern mythologies and texts, which his wife joked were probably expletives.

Emma lay back on her rug, stretching like a cat in the sun. She returned to fingering her nipples with one hand, first stroking, then pinching each one, bringing them erect beneath their thin covering. Her other hand slipped down the front of her knickers, and although hidden, the rise and fall of the delicate lace made it clear that she was stroking her pussy.

After a few minutes of rolling into various poses, she withdrew her hands from her underwear, placing the one that had been stroking beneath her panties in her mouth, licking off whatever sweet tasting juices she had produced.

Having cleaned her hand, she reached behind her and unhooked her bra. Once again, she made a show of looking around before slipping the straps off her shoulders to reveal her outsized breasts. Steve zoomed in, and found that they were really not to his taste. Certainly, they were large. He liked large breasts. But the texture was wrong. He liked Judy's soft, pliant boobs, which dropped when she took her bra off.

He continued taking photographs, reflecting on these artificial breasts. To his eye, they looked 'wrong', as if someone had taken two over-inflated balloons and moulded them to a flat surface, using papier-mâché. If he focused quite closely, there were also very clear scars. He wondered if these were 'top of the range' implants, as Emma claimed, or a rather cheaper job. He suspected the latter.

She began massaging the immobile orbs, pulling her nipples, drawing them up into sharp points, before lowering her hands to her remaining item of clothing. Once again, she looked around. Steve had concluded that she was not actually looking for him, but that the looks were for the camera, simply part of her role as a woman stripping in a public place, feeling sexy and checking she was not being observed.

She stripped off her panties, revealing an entirely smooth pubis - waxed hairless on a regular basis, Steve guessed. She spread her legs wide, dropped her hand to touch herself.

With the fingers of one hand, she opened her labia - thankfully facing the camera, giving Steve perfect shots of her open pussy. He wondered if she had had some remodelling done down there, because it looked perfect. Her lips were puffy, but not excessively so, neat and tidy, more like a biology text book than most of the women he had 'inspected'.

Using a zoom lens, he was able to pick out her clitoris, peeking through the inner folds, but this was quickly obscured by a finger, touching the sensitive spot, making her draw her knees up and arch her back.

As Steve watched, Emma writhed, tensed and relaxed with pleasure. He wondered, again, if this was more performance than genuine. Certainly, any lover would be unsure whether or not he was driving her towards orgasm or an Oscar.