Espied Pt. 03

Back looking through the window Sal saw her neighbour had not yet returned to his chair. Should she perhaps hurry and retrieve her camera from her house. It was foolish not to have brought it. The prospect of walking naked away from the safety of her own garden had been paramount. Perhaps she could...

The thought was so interrupted by the feel of a hand on her naked shoulder. Did Sal jump - right out of her so naked skin! She had been caught. He must have gone out of another door and come around behind her. Had probably been watching her watching his television.

The man pushed Sal in through the French windows into the light. She stood there on the carpet totally naked and as red as a beetroot: he was as naked but also so very tumescent. Sal was sure the hardness of her nipples gave away her excitement. The man looked at, then reached for and raised her right hand. Sal's fingers were so clearly wet, so wet from her sex. He smiled and then raised the hand to his nose before, ever so gently, placing her fingers between his lips and sucking on them - tasting her.

"Shall we masturbate...?"

They were not the words she had expected. No remonstrations about trespassing and spying. Instead he stepped backwards and waited, his penis so very there, so big, so hard and so male. Sal felt she could do nothing else but comply with his invitation. One hand to her sex, the other to her breasts. The man's hand lowered and he drew the skin up and over his knob. Two people, a yard apart, staring at each other's body and masturbating. And Sal was looking right down the barrel of his penis.

Nothing was said. There was silence but for the faint wet sounds from Sal's sex. Up and down went the man's fingers on his penis drawing the loose skin forwards and backwards making his knob appear and disappear. Sal's fingers poked into herself, her fingers rolled over and around her clitoris and the fingers of her other hand gently caressed her nipples. Neither made a move to touch the other. It was all visual. Sal stared at the naked masturbating man: her neighbour stared at her body and what she was doing. Each enjoying the sight of the other, masturbating to the sight of a naked body of the opposite sex, each also getting excitement from seeing the other masturbating.

Finally, there were words: "May I come... on you?"

Sal did not give a verbal reply, instead she took her hand away from her sex and stepped forward. Now inches apart the man's hand speeded. They were both looking downwards, not at each other's faces but at the erect penis and Sal's soft and ample curls. Sal knew what would happen, by stepping forward she was permitting it but, even so, when the penis spurted she jumped. She had truly been looking right down the loaded barrel of her neighbour's penis, down below her, and it had gone off. A sudden flash of white coming right up towards her. It did not, of course, reach her eyes or face but she felt the sudden warm splash between her breasts as the man did what he had asked to do. Her neighbour came upon Sal. Warm between her breasts and warm on her stomach. Warm and wet.

Sal hardly knew her neighbour. A couple of cups of coffee and some chat. This, though, was such a strange almost greeting, very different from simply having coffee together.

It had seemed somehow right then to really wet her fingers with her own juices and smear them across his stomach and even nipples. An exchange, almost a ritual exchange of, very personal, bodily fluids. It was almost sexual. There was his semen on her body and she had reached under herself and pushed her fingers into her wetness and brought them up and touched him. Touched his nipples with her wet fingers and his stomach. He had wettened her skin and she had done the same.

"You must...." he said, "... we must... again."

"Yes." Sal had not stayed, had stepped back through the French windows and disappeared into the night to walk back up the garden with her neighbour's semen still on her stomach and in her pubic hair, along the track and then through her own garden door, bolting it behind her. Never before had a man's semen touched her. Never had she been so close to it - a man's stuff. Back in her house she even photographed it. Time releases of herself - with a man's cum upon her. Not photographs 'for the record' but as artistic as she could make them with careful lighting and backdrop but nonetheless naked woman with a man's semen upon her.

It had all been so strangely almost sexual.

"I'll do it," three, or was it four, simple words and Sal, of all people, had committed herself. Committed herself to undressing, well perhaps not actually undressing in front of everyone -but certainly being naked and photographed by her friends in the photography club. Cheaper than hiring a model but...

The club had found a model. Not Mr Soames' model - he had been strangely reticent about giving her name and contact details. But on the night the woman the club had found had called to say she could not make it. A beastly cold and in the summertime at that. Whilst perhaps the object of the evening was the contrast of light and shadow on skin, a dripping nose might not have been quite the thing and perhaps she would rather have been tucked up in bed with a hot lemon drink than posing naked on a, compared to other days, not so warm summer's evening.

The telephone call cancelling had been made in good time but the meeting was already arranged. The members had been at a bit of a loss knowing they should each volunteer but had clearly been reluctant. It was a subject avoided at first. They were probably surprised but relieved at Sal - of all people - volunteering.

Mrs Riley had insisted Sal wore something, just a necklace or ribbon or chain. Sal did not undress in front of them. The kitchen to the hall where they held their meetings was a much better place. There was a certain silence as Sal walked from the circle of chairs towards the kitchen to undress. All eyes were no doubt following her. Perhaps they were all nodding in approval at her volunteering, admiring her pluck and generosity but perhaps some of the men were thinking of her already naked. It was difficult, Sal thought, to separate the sexual from the artistic. She did not.

It was not too difficult undressing alone in the kitchen. Little different from the empty changing room at the swimming baths or a cubicle or, really, her bedroom. Sal stood naked looking at the tea urn. There was no mirror in the kitchen. It was not the place for mirrors, but the shiny stainless steel of the tea urn reflected a distorted view of Sal back to her. It gave a certain curved prominence to her breasts and, strangely, the blue ribbon around her neck. Mrs Riley had found it. Sal was not sure it did not accentuate the sexual, the small scrap of material so emphasising her nudity by covering so little.

Sal took a deep breath and almost opened the door. She found she could not do it, could not reach for the handle. It took several deep breaths to finally reach out for the handle and open it. A little more pluck and determination to actually walk through. Such a strange thrill went right through her as all the heads turned as one to her as she stepped forward. The lighting had been arranged, a suitable setting for the nude photograph set out. A chaise longue, an Indian carpet, even an Aspidistra. Such a Victorian setting for a nude study. Sal in her boudoir perhaps!

She knew her nipples were standing but her friends were not to know if they normally were like that. It certainly was not the cold: the evening was quite warm.

It was strange being told what to do by the others. Where to stand, sit or lie; where to put her hands; how to hold a fan she was given; which way to turn and so on. Sal standing with knee forward by the Aspidistra, Sal languid on the chaise longue, Sal looking over her shoulder, Sal in that classic arm over breasts and hand over pubes pose - and all the while the cameras clicked, the club members choosing their angles.

There was nothing risqué, nothing untoward, nothing pornographic. It was 'glamour' at best - or worst - the studies were nude studies. There was an awful lot of lighting adjustments to get different skin tones and use of shade. There were no attempts to get Sal on all fours, or with her legs rather too open.

Sal did wonder what the club members would have thought about photographing copulation and other things. A couple hired to be very explicit, to do sexual things whilst the cameras clicked. A challenge to the club members to take artistic photographs of human coupling, perhaps with a considerable debate on the lighting and camera settings for close-up photographs, possibly black and white, of coupled and wet genitalia. Sal smiled, she had some experience of that! Nice to imagine the man's penis all hard and wet with the vaginal lubrication of the woman. Taken close to, perhaps with the shiny knob almost out of the vagina.

And would her fellow members be keen to try and capture the man's ejaculation? Just a single chance but them all crowding around, seeking their own angle. A strong debate on how the man should come. Standing, lying, by his own hand, by the girl's hand; should the hand be in the photograph or the man or woman instructed to let the penis just ejaculate on its own; should it come on the woman and if so where - face, breasts, bottom, sex?

What critical appreciation there would be the next time the club met when the members displayed their best photographs. That was to come, not of the imagined couple but of Sal. The next meeting would be entirely about her. Photograph after photograph of her naked would be shown. The evening relived, and no doubt there would be a few members who had not attended on the night of Sal's nude shoot seeing her naked for the first time on the photographs.