Espied Pt. 12

"I don't think they put as much chocolate on those biscuits as they used to."

Sal had bumped into Mrs Riley at the local supermarket. They had gone around together pushing their trolleys. Later at the greengrocery section Sal had been more than a little amused as Mrs Riley picked up a cucumber, turned it slowly and winked at her.

"I was ever so pleased with my photographs. Your really are most photogenic, my dear, a lovely liquidity to your movements. I did tell Mr Riley all about it and..." The movement was suggestive. It is remarkable how suggestive a woman's hands can be upon a cucumber or banana. Clearly, she was reminding Sal of the photo session the week before, "... he saw my photographs of course. He said he'd wished he'd been there."

The question was obvious, but Mrs Riley forestalled it. "He's not much of a photographer. He just wanted to watch -- the bad man!"

Sal was not at all sure the meeting had really been all about photography, even though Mrs Riley went off into the rather technical aspects of photographing skin tones and focus. Sal had simply been the model not the photographer. She had posed atop the table. The ever-popular photographic subject of the nude -- in that meeting there had been studies of both the female and male nude. Only it had been rather more than that. The female and male nude together -- very together. Considerable opportunity had been given to photograph the male sexual organs -- with penis both flaccid and erect. Moreover, the photographers had been able to compare male and female genitalia in various studies. Admittedly it had only been the single set of female genitalia -- Sal's -- but a good number of the men had agreed to pose with her and permit a close comparison. Liquid is always an interesting photographic study, perhaps particularly in black and white. The photographers had been delighted in how liquid Sal had been, her thighs and sex had run in rivulets -- and the men had provided their own liquid to add to the compositions.

She could well understand Mr Riley would have liked to have watched. "Would he have posed for the group?"

"Oh, I don't think so. No. He is a rather shy man. He won't even pose for me naked at home. I like photographing the nude, Sal, but I have to wait for the club's meetings. You were so natural, so easy. "I couldn't do what you did. I really couldn't."

Sal rather thought what Mrs Riley meant was she would really like to! Mrs Riley had mentioned how she would like, Sal recalled, a private photograph session, just Mrs Riley and Sal -- and Mr Riley. Would it be polite to recall Mrs Riley's words and offer? Was that what she was seeking, a hidden implication of her words? Perhaps Mrs Riley might be prepared to pose with Mr Riley. Sal would like the opportunity. She had not had the chance at the club -- being the model.

"I was wondering," said Mrs Riley, as she collected fruit, "... these pears look nice -- I was thinking of suggesting the club had an outing on the theme of the nude in the landscape. You know, the contrast of soft skin and hard landscape. Take a minibus and have some members posing in the all-together by lakes, rivers or in woodland scenes. Trying perhaps to have the naked body blending into the scene."

"That'd be good. I'd enjoy seeing how that worked. I can see myself trying several different filters."

"Perhaps, Sal, though I should imagine club members would rather like you to pose for us. But we might try the idea out before suggesting it. A practice run if you like. Perhaps I might persuade Mr Riley to drive us, even model for us."

Sal wondered if Mrs Riley would be successful with her husband. How shy was he? Would she casually mention it to him; would she have to cajole, or was it perhaps a persistent Mr Riley who kept asking about the photo sessions at the club, so intrigued by what Mrs Riley told him and the photographs; or was it something whispered in his ear whilst they were passionately engaged in bed? A little difficult to imagine Mrs Riley passionately engaged. Seeing Chloe and Paul had been one thing but Mrs Riley and Mr Riley?

However Mrs Riley broached the subject, and whether she had to use her powers of persuasion Sal did not know. Perhaps she was particularly caring of Mr Riley -- perhaps she sucked his cock a lot -- but the outing happened. Sal, complete with two black bags of photographic equipment slung around her, was picked up. Mr Riley proved a dapper little man. Shiny bald head and a little moustache, somewhat portly and, as Sal found rather quiet. Sal sat in the back of their car as Mr Riley drove and Mrs Riley did pretty much all the talking.

Sal was a little surprised when Mr Riley reached down and picked up a pipe. She was suddenly alarmed the car was going to be filled with fragrant or more likely acrid pipe smoke. Sal was not a smoker herself -- never had been except once or twice behind the bike sheds. It had made her feel sick.

Mrs Riley turned around and said, "don't worry, Sal, Alfred hasn't smoked for years and years. He just likes something in his mouth." There was a pause and then she winked, "Like you."

Sal gave Mrs Riley a look. Did she mean what Sal thought she did? A sudden hint of Mrs Riley's tongue across her lips. Clearly, she most certainly did! There was rather more to Mrs Riley than met the eye. There was clearly more to her than a house-proud (Sal assumed) middle-aged woman. Had she looked longingly at Sal's young black friend's mahogany truncheon in all its manly tumescence there upon the table at the club's meeting, the club's photographic lights arranged to give deep shadow and bright prominence, emphasising the shape of the young man's impressive organ? Had she wished to suck that as Sal had sucked? Alfred Riley might like his pipe but what of Edith Riley? What would the young man think of that? An older woman fellating him, the keen club members perhaps asking him to simulate sexual intercourse and Mrs Riley deciding to make it real? What would Mr Riley think if he saw the resultant photographs, his wife 'speared' by a penis like that!

"Where are we actually going?" Sal asked.

With his pipe between his teeth, it waggling up and down, the usually taciturn Alfred Riley spoke. It was a disused quarry. A pretty place, but not much visited. A bit out of the way. The whiteness of the rock created a rather impressive mirror effect in the water. The water would look very blue, Mediterranean blue indeed, reflected from the sky. The surrounding trees so green. It was all very photogenic. Good scenery for photography he supposed. The water rather too cold really for swimming. The water was deep, very deep. It was not wise to go swimming. A risk of difficulties with the cold water.

The car pulled up on a quiet by-road amongst trees. Sal lifted her camera bags and got out. It was a little odd following the Rileys down a path. Pleasing to see no other cars parked. Mid-week and not early in the morning. People working, and possible dog walkers no longer out and about. Mr Riley in neat chinos and jacket, carrying his wife's camera bag and one of Sal's. Mrs Riley beside him in her usual floral dress, her brown permed curls contrasting with Mr Riley's baldness. He had put on a hat, a trilby, even though the sun was filtered by the overhanging branches.

The setting for the photo shoot, when they reached it, was simply excellent. A sheep grazed view out across the old quarry, the old quarry road leading into it and a good level area by the water with its high sides rising up beyond. All around the trees and quiet. No one could be seen, no walkers, fishermen or people with an interest in photography -- apart from Mr and Mrs Riley and Sal. Stone had not been extracted for some fifty years, nature had largely reclaimed the landscape. It almost looked natural not man made.

Mrs Riley began setting up her tripod and Sal delved in her bag for her camera, standing and composing a shot out across the water. It all rather left Mr Riley with nothing to do but wander.

Mrs Riley looked up, "Where's Alfred?"

Sal pointed. Mr Riley was rather in the way of a landscape shot she had been considering. The two photographers had set themselves up on the high ground to start with. He was making his way down to the water's edge below them.

"It's lovely here, Mrs Riley."

"Edith, please, Sal. He's meant to be modelling for us. It would be quite a good photograph. An intriguing conversation piece. Why was there a naked man in the corner of the photograph -- just a little portrait in the open landscape. Was he perhaps going for a swim?"

"Or a naked woman," said Sal.

"Or a naked man and woman. That might suggest other things."

"I'd be happy to shoot that. You, Edith, and Mr Riley perhaps, hand in hand? How suggestive would you make it, Edith?"

"Might I tickle his fancy, you mean?"

Down below him the man was looking out over the water having no idea he was being talked about. Still less two women were imagining him naked and being tickled erect.

"Is he happy to pose for us, Edith?"

"He's going to. He's very keen to see you naked, Sal after I told him how photogenic you are. But he's shy. After all, as Alfred told me last night, he's not a young man anymore not like your beautiful boy."

When Mr Riley returned, it was amusing to Sal to see the sudden disappointed look on his face. Clearly, he had hoped to find her naked and draped over a rock or something being photographed. Instead Mrs Riley sent him away with an injunction to walk back up from the quarry again but this time naked.

"Sal thinks we could take some interesting photographs of a naked man in landscape."

"But..."

"No buts, Fred. Not even your shoesor your hat."

They did not see the undressing but with cameras and tripods set up all at once there was Mr Riley down below them. The sun caught his naked skin and reflected. It was excellent, the reflection, causing the eye to look that way. The eventual best photograph of Mr Riley's walk showing a real glint of a reflection. You could not tell the age of the man from the distance -- only he was a naked man.

"I think he's been in for a dip in the shallow bit -- a ledge of rock before the water drops a long way. I bet its cold. Do you think the naughty man had any reason to cool off? Do you think the thought of being exposed to your lenses has made him hard?"

Sal very much liked the idea of naked man with erection in her landscape. It would make it the more mysterious! Mr Riley, down below and walking towards them, was clearly not erect. But had he been? Men get erect. Sal was more than aware of that. She had had recent experience.

Winding around a rocky outcrop and coming into view a lot closer, it was clear Mr Riley was not a young man, he certainly had a paunch though, to be fair, his bottom was still small and his buttocks did not sag. Sal was surprised to see Alfred Riley was bald not just upon his head but around his genitalia, everything swung freely without the cushioning effect of pubic curls. A little boy look, if his stomach and wrinkled neck did not give the lie to immaturity. Sal had half expected him to try and cover himself as he came closer but perhaps having swung free during the climb he had overcome nervousness. The rather fixed smile as he came closer as Sal raised her camera did betray some nervousness, though. It was not a good photograph. Not least because, perhaps, it was a naked man with a pipe still clamped between his teeth.

They had him stand and pose in front of the view -- without the pipe. Standing, sitting, even walking. Sal got Mrs Riley to pose with him. She in her dress, him stark naked. Sal liked the contrast -- clothed female/ naked male - and was just thinking it would be rather different to have Mr Riley not only naked but sexually aroused perhaps with Mrs Riley looking shocked, or maybe with her hand clasping his erection, when Mrs Riley suggested she would like to photograph Sal making the same walk up from the quarry.

Down at the flooded quarry, Sal left her clothes with Mr Riley's. No doubt Mrs Riley's would join them later. She walked slowly up the hill remembering where the best places to be photographed were and pausing and posing. A slow walk up the hill in the sunshine. So good to feel the freedom of nakedness. What did Mr Riley think? Was he enjoying the sight? But when Sal reached the top of the hill he was nowhere to be seen.

"A call of nature," explained Mrs Riley, but Sal wondered if it was because of an engorged cock. Embarrassing enough to be naked for him in front of Sal but quite another to be erect.

Had something sexual being going on between them? Had Mr Riley even at distance found her naked body pleasing or had he perhaps borrowed the telephoto lens of Sal's camera and watched Sal as if close to?

As Sal had walked back up the hill, she had been thinking of Mrs Riley photographing her. Had thought of Mr Riley watching. Moreover, she had imagined other photographers watching her in secret. It had strangely excited her. She had found she had a 'thing' about being seen and the idea of some male photographer perhaps intending to photograph birds in their nests catching sight of her naked and zooming in on her and her 'nest.' Difficult to imagine there would not be a fumbling at the fly and the cock -- not a male bird but a very male organ -- extracted and wanked with enthusiasm at the sight. It was a pleasing thought. It gave an added thrill to knowing Mr and Mrs Riley were watching.

Mr Riley returned and there was nothing inappropriate about his cock apart from being exposed. But Mrs Riley had two naked people to pose and photograph. Sal sitting with Mr Riley standing beside her; the two of them standing but one facing away and one to the camera; male and female bodies draped across the landscape.

But then it was Sal's turn to be photographer and she insisted she wanted nude bodies too. Mrs Riley had to become bare as well. Shoes, dress and undies discarded and there was a third person naked in the landscape. It was fair to say Mrs Riley was reasonably substantial. 'Wide hipped' and generous around the bust. The modern preference in the female form is for the thin, almost androgynous look: narrow hips and little breasts, the girl out jogging with swinging ponytail. Not so Mrs Riley, much more a Rubens ideal of feminine beauty. Voluptuous and notably weightier. Not in any way looking famished. Her skin tender and creamy pale, her body undulating with perhaps excess flesh. Her breasts somewhat hanging rather than firm, with pert nipples, generous and full. A 'weighty pair' which Sal was sure Mr Riley enjoyed weighing and bouncing in his hands. Sal might seek to photograph that.

Beneath Mrs Riley's somewhat rotund stomach the Rubens analogy faded. Rather than a wisp of silk obscuring any hint of sexual cleft, Mrs Riley's bush grew as a tangled thicket. Her brown permed curls to her head, very possibly assisted in their colour, grew darker below. Mysterious undergrowth though which the way, the path, no doubt well known to Mr Riley led via that sexual cleft to her well, or cavern, of pleasure. They had been married for long years -- how many times had he ventured down that path, ventured into the cavern and played until he had released. Might that happen that day? Might Sal be able to photograph in a pleasing and perhaps tender way, the copulation of a rather mature couple?

If Mrs Riley seemed delighted, even freed by her nudity, Mr Riley remained rather awkward and anything but a natural model. They moved location down to the quarry, Sal wishing to photograph naked bodies with the water backdrop. Good to have the couple actually standing in the water, a polarised filter on her camera to make the water transparent revealing lower legs and feet. Unfortunately, Mr Riley's posing remained as stiff and awkward as when up the hill. Not 'stiff' in the way Sal would rather have liked though! At least not until Sal gave up on trying to explain the position she wished him to adopt but got into the water and physically moved him. She even reached and tugged Mr Riley by his penis into pose. She wanted it, and him, close to Mrs Riley, his hands to her waist, and it was easier to both place hands and tug the article into the right position than to push him.

That seemed to do it! Perhaps it was the way Sal half tugged his foreskin back, she wanted the glans part exposed. A bit of sexual suggestion but she got rather more as Mr Riley's cock pumped up to its full stretch and the foreskin fully retracted.

"Don't look so surprised. OK, just turn you head and look out over the water." Sal pretended to ignore it -- treat it as 'normal.' The photograph proved very pleasing. Not portraiture because neither of the Rileys were looking at the camera but the flesh tones, the transparent water and the blue, blue sky. The eroticism and implication of the nudity and the closeness of the firm erection and Mrs Riley's generous bottom. Not young bodies, not the typical eroticism of barely legal (if that) bare bodies but time matured bodies with different curves and interest. Nor, as well, the oversize cock of the porn star but a real common or garden cock such as any man might have, perhaps even a little less lengthy than the average but still very firm.

Bald head and bald of course knob. Sal had the sudden thought, with good depth of field could she juxtapose an erect cock with its shiny knob in the foreground with Mr Riley from the back taken with him further back in the frame, making the two look the same size and Mr Riley's bald pate something like a knob. Two erect cocks together, only one was Mr Riley. A trick shot. But she did not have a spare cock to pose with him. Mrs Riley and she had only brought the one.

Mrs Riley seemed delighted to find her husband had erected. "Isn't this fun, Fred. Glorious scenery, warm sun and dear Sal recording it all!"

Sal did not seem to have to pose Mrs Riley. Edith Riley seemed to have an instinctive feel for a good pose. Perhaps she was simply reflecting the poses she would want if she was the photographer. Sal loved the pose where Mrs Riley placed her hand under Mr Riley's scrotum and stood there as if the whole erection was balanced in the palm of her hand, resting on its base of a pair of balls. Sal even knelt close to do a close up of penis and balls rising from Mrs Riley's outstretched palm. The lack of any hair making it look the larger.

"Can I take over now, Sal?"

Sal felt the camera lifted from her hands and she was left kneeling in front of Mr Riley.

"Pretend to be about to suck Alfred, Sal."

She was on her knees in front of the man. His cock very much up, fraenum facing her as taut as a bow, the shiny swollen knob so reminiscent of Mr Riley's bald head. It wavered there right under her nose, a dewdrop of excitement welling up. The click of Mrs Riley's shutter coming to her ears. Sal extended her tongue as if to flick or lick, turning her eyes towards the camera. Was that the pose Mrs Riley wanted? Between her legs she could feel her wetness welling too. The strong arousal that seemed to come to her more and more. How had it hit her upon the photography club's table? Sal's eyes turned back to Mr Riley's cock. The dewdrop of pre-cum had grown and was now elongating itself into a swinging thread hanging off the cock. The temptation to lick it off the cock now strong.

"Edith, do you wish me to suck?"

"If you don't mind, Sal."

Mr Riley was not asked for his view on the matter or permission. Sal's lips touched and within them her tongue licked, tasting the sweetness of the exuded liquid. Away from her the click of Mrs Riley's camera. Sal's lips slid forward, her eyes closing as she felt the smoothness of Mr Riley's glans sliding into her mouth. More shutter clicks from Mrs Riley crouching upon the shore to get the right angle. Sal turned to her, opening her eyes wide. Another click of the shutter. It proved a pleasing shot as if Sal was surprised at what she had in her mouth. Crouching, Mrs Riley's legs were spread showing everything -- or would have had there not been so many curls! Sal turned, drawing Mr Riley's cock with her, to gaze out across the water, thinking how much she liked having a cock in her mouth and that wonderfully wet feeling between her legs, thinking how different she was now from before, prepared to expose herself to people and relishing the exposure.