Espied Pt. 12

But taken alone. As a single photograph such interpretations could be made. People can read into paintings and indeed photographs whatever they wish. An image can have a particular importance and meaning not actually intended by the artist or indeed shared with others. Mr Soames had suggested it could be seen as non-erotic and a statement of marital fidelity and commitment, though Sal thought that difficult with Mrs Riley's rather feline pose. But with 'American Gothic' people think of the old man and woman as a married couple yet the artist meant it to show an old man and his mature daughter; the painting was originally seen as a satire of small-town life in rural America yet it came to be viewed as a depiction of steadfast pioneer spirit. Other interpretations abound! People take paintings and images as their own and find relevance to their own lives.

From the simple click of the shutter and the taking of what the years showed Sal to have been one of her best photographs, Sal had Alfred Riley remount the rock -- to again mount a woman! Sal rather repeated Mrs Riley's set albeit with Sal as the photographer, not the model. But after a few photographs she found herself keen to return to the original idea of nudes in a landscape. Telling the couple to hold their pose she hurried backwards, keen to show the rock and the two figures as just part of a landscape -- perhaps an unexpected part. Returning to the couple she found Mrs Riley full of new ideas.

"I was thinking, Sal, we might contrast bodies and trees." Mrs Riley slowly pushed back onto her husband's penis. Sal watched it disappearing and then slowly appearing. It really would be nice to have it in her again.

"Soft leaves and hard bark; strong verticals."

Mrs Riley pulled herself from her husband, stretched and stood up on the rock. He did the same, his 'strong vertical' wet and glistening in the sunlight.

"Yes, hold that pose," Sal clicked and clicked. "Edith get your camera," she helped her from the rock leaving Alfred Riley alone, naked and fairly impressively erect.

"I'm imagining a statue, Edith. We could have club members in statue poses and alter the colouration to show them as if in marble. What do you think, Edith?"

Mrs Riley actually thought the idea better for the winter, for inside photography. Easier to set up the right lighting, a proper mock plinth, research on 'heroic' and other poses; but she liked the idea, draped and undraped.

"I must admit Sal, I very much like the idea of your young friend upon the plinth, perhaps with a few props. Maybe as a Roman soldier with helmet, gladius and small shield, both sword and cock raised. Excuse my French!"

It was becoming more than clear to Sal that Mrs Riley's interest was not just a matter of her photography hobby, she was very interested in the young black lad's penis. Perhaps a modelling session could be arranged where Mrs Riley had the chance to feel it where it counted! Sal had the sudden image of naked Mrs Riley lowering herself down onto the lad's knob, a delightfully surprised and pleased look on her face and her eyes wide open; very much a front view with the verticality of the erection emphasized. The lovely contrast of her pale skin and the lad's black cock, the eyes drawn to Mrs Riley and the cock by the splay of the lad's dark thighs towards the camera, him otherwise hidden behind her. It could be quite a shot. Other shots might very well show the contrast of their ages. That shot would be of Mrs Riley's Rubenesque body and a big black penis!

They walked up into the trees and found to their surprise a rather wonderful woodland glade, the sun slanting in. It really was a superb locaton for the photography club's outing -- such a contrast of lovely landscapes. Mrs Riley had the idea of Sal posing as a woodland nymph,

"Wouldn't it have been good to have threaded leaves and given you a hint of modesty around your waist." No doubt all sorts of props might have assisted but all Mrs Riley had was naked Sal. For a time she had Sal pose as if surprised, at rest, asleep or running through the glade. She very soon had the further idea of Sal chased by a satyr. Mr Riley most certainly did not have the requisite ears, tail, legs, or horns of a goat as in the traditional representation, but he could have the satyr's erection albeit not exactly oversized!

"Sal, could you make Fred hard again?"

Sal could certainly do that. Mr Riley had been sitting on a fallen tree whilst the ladies had been photographing. He stood as Sal approached, his penis not completely soft -- he had been watching Sal running through the glade!

"Edith wants me to make you hard again, may I?"

Alfred Riley might have been a little nervous at undressing first thing that day, but he seemed to have got over that; he was more than happy to press his penis forward into Sal's hand; more than pleased for her to erect him so he stood cockproud before the woman. It did not take much persuading to thicken and stand up, a few strokes at most. Sal trailed her fingers up from scrotum to knob, it jerked.

"That's it, Mr Riley, you do have a nice cock." Sal licked her lips, "very suckable. Should I?" Sal was doing her best to encourage strong tumescence -- putting ideas into Mr Riley's head. "Are you going to stay hard for Edith's photo shoot? If you don't I'm going to have to suck, perhaps suck a lot -- but not too much. That wouldn't do would it! We don't want that to happen do we?" A little pause. "not... that."

Of course he did. Sal had rather cleverly got him into a paradoxical situation. To get sucked he needed to lose his erection, but the delicious idea of Sal wrapping her lips once more around his cock kept him hard!

Sal was not quite sure the satyr idea worked. Seemingly nor did Mrs Riley. Sal saw the photographs but they were never presented to the club. The image of Sal running as daintily and nymph like as she could across the glade looked rather ridiculous with Mr Riley running after her with his portly stomach and erect penis. It would have been better with Sal's young black friend of course or actually had Mr Riley been made up as a satyr though an outsize penis would have further improved the image, even if still rather ridiculous!

"It's a pity we didn't bring some rope."

"Edith?" Sal looked at Mrs Riley with a most surprised expression. Surely Mrs Riley, the first to offer to make tea at the club, the rather mature lady always to be found straightening the chairs, she of the very traditional dress and sensible shoes was not really suggesting bondage photographs? But she was!

"I suppose it's not really the 'nude in the landscape' but just looking at those two saplings there I was thinking how it would look with you tied between them. An intriguing sort of photograph. Why are you bound like that? What might happen next?"

Sal wondered if there was something more than that. Was this an unexpected kink of Mrs Riley's -- or was she perhaps going along with a kink she knew Mr Riley possessed? Sal walked to the saplings. She was happy to pose as Mrs Riley wished.

"Do you mean like this?" Sal spoke over her shoulder. She had reached up and grasped in each hand the thin trunks of a pair of ash saplings that grew about four or five feet apart. She had spread her legs too, placing an ankle against the base of the two saplings, indeed as if she had been lashed in spread-eagle fashion to form a saltire -- an 'X.' It was not too difficult to imagine her wrists and ankles bound, perhaps, rather than by ropes, by twisted creepers.

Behind her Mrs Riley had already raised her camera. Mr Riley, on the other hand, had something else raised. Sal posed, hanging from her imaginary bonds, struggling against them as Mrs Riley circled at a distance photographing Sal set in the landscape.

Sal was not surprised to see Mr Riley approaching with a peeled willow switch.

"I just thought... Fred won't actually use it, Sal. I just thought the idea..."

"I don't mind if... but not too hard."

"Fred you can whip Sal a little but be careful, not too hard."

Alfred Riley might be about to thrash Sal softly under that injunction, but there was nothing soft about his penis and that certainly showed in the subsequent photographs. Erotic? Sal certainly thought so. Would it have been better had the supposed punishment been meted out by her young black friend? Very possibly. Certainly, Mr Riley's cock stood very well but the lad's would have stood a lot better. Plentiful verticality to the photographs -- the twin saplings soaring upwards, Sal so upright and taut, the penis and the raised willow switch. And there would have been the further contrast of the bone white freshly peeled willow and her friend's dark skin; the hand clasping the switch -- white within black. It would have been better.

Perhaps with the photography club it could be Mrs Riley being thrashed, her ample bottom under the willow. Mrs Riley being whipped by the young man, the contrast of his black skin and the bone white willow. The eroticism of the scene -- the so upright and long black cock. All those clicking cameras

Even before the switch was applied to Sal's bottom Mrs Riley's photographs came well. Perhaps it was Mr Riley's portliness, maybe his baldness as well, but to Sal it gave probably a more unsettling air to the photographs than had it been the young lad. Perhaps had Sal been a mere girl there would have been even more 'edginess' to the photographs. What was going on? Why was the young thing being punished; what was her transgression; why was she naked rather than merely with bottom exposed; why was she bound; why was the man with the switch naked? Perhaps why he would be erect as well as naked would be rather obvious! But what might happen next? What would happen to the girl after the whipping?

"Oooh!"

"Fred!"

The first cut across her bottom had not been as gentle as perhaps Mr Riley had intended. It was not soft. Mr Riley was gentler after that, as the camera clicked. At least until Mrs Riley moved around to Sal's front and side and set up her camera. It resulted in one of the best photographs. Had Mrs Riley whispered in her husband's ear but the next cut across her buttocks was hard once again; it caused Sal to jerk forward, the photograph clearly showing her pubis, her Mound of Venus thrusting forward. It was very sexual, and the camera very clearly caught that; and the switch behind her and, indeed, Alfred Riley with his protruding stomach and bald pate shining with a real grin on his face seemed just so right. Both Sal and Mrs Riley agreed, sitting on Mrs Riley's sofa and going through the photographs that, actually, the one thing that would have improved on the photograph, so crisp and detailed, the colouration, exposure and everything so right, would have been had Mr Riley had his pipe clamped between his teeth!

How very strange to sit with Mrs Riley, cups of tea and biscuits before them on Mrs Riley's chintz covered settee, discussing photography and Mrs Riley talking about penises -- her husband's erect organ -- and how his pipe would have added to the photograph particularly if it had mirrored exactly the angle of his cock!

Another sip of tea and their talk moved to the next photographs. The willow switch now set aside, and that very penis brought into play again. Somewhat a repeat of the photographs atop the rock but rather than Sal on all fours she was spread eagled to the saplings with Mr Riley behind her. Mr Riley with his cock pointing at her bottom, Mr Riley with it upright in her bottom crack, Mr Riley behind her and grasping her breasts... It was at that moment it happened.

Mrs Riley had not asked Mr Riley to pose with his cock inside her. Perhaps it was an accident, a mistake, but Sal doubted that. Whilst Mrs Riley was adjusting Mr Riley's hands across Sal's breasts, Mrs Riley there at her front and Mr Riley right behind Sal, she had felt his penis nose between her legs. What was he up to? Sal had a pretty good idea, confirmed when he quietly pushed in. Did he think she would not notice? Perhaps it had been the willow to her bottom; perhaps it had been the steady somewhat sexual activity of the photography session; but something snapped inside Sal just as it had upon the photography club's table. She lurched forward almost knocking Mrs Riley over and would have done had Mr Riley not restrained Sal with his hands upon her breasts. She was then thrusting herself back at him, her purchase upon the saplings enabling her to swing her body forwards and back with ease. Back onto the inserted cock, then away forward and then deliciously back, forcing it into her again and again.

"Sal!" But Mrs Riley had the camera up, was snapping the scene, the sudden wildness of Sal. She had seen it before and was not going to miss.

Probably Mr Riley was taken aback, suddenly to have a wild thing on the end of his knob; not him slowly, almost surreptitiously, stroking his cock inside Sal as he had expected, but very much Sal fucking him. Of course he could not hold back.

Sal was vocal, had anyone else been at the quarry -- above water so they could hear -- they would have come running. Mrs Riley was very happy with the result in a quite different way from her husband and Sal. Sal had a shattering orgasm, her clit on fire. Alfred Riley too had his orgasm and ejaculation, his cum spurting into Sal, frothing at the hard pumping she was giving him. Mrs Riley caught Sal being vocal, her mouth open, her head pulled back; breasts thrusting into Mr Riley's hands; her bottom thrusting back at Mr Riley; his face a picture of surprise and pleasure, it had strangely softened, making him look a lot younger, perhaps it was the position of his chin rather raised or the way the light caught him, perhaps a hint of softer focus or maybe just the obvious orgasm he was experiencing. It was quite a photograph.

Mrs Riley confided to Sal quite a few days later that she had caught her husband looking at that photograph intently one afternoon and with his cock in hand. Sal had giggled and asked what Mrs Riley had done? She had coloured and said,

"Well men, you have to deal with them," and had whispered in Sal's ear.

"Did you swallow, Edith?"

"Don't be coarse, Sal... but... I didn't want that staining my dress!"

With Mr Riley's willie now swinging and anything but turgid, it seemed the photographic session was over. A trial run, a preliminary visit prior to a possible outing for the club. They walked back to where they had left their clothes. Sal was about to pick hers up when Mrs Riley said,

"Look Alfred, what you've done. That must be uncomfortable for Sal." She was indicating the twin streams of ejaculated cum making their way down Sal's inner thighs.

It certainly tickled. Sal was not sure Mr Riley had not already noticed. He had been lagging behind as Mrs Riley and she had talked 'photographic club.' Had he been watching the gradual appearance of his handiwork (not that his hands had been much involved! Peniswork?); taking pleasure in seeing just what he had done to Sal?

"I... I've a fresh handkerchief." And so there was Mr Riley kneeling before Sal, still both naked, and dabbing at her cum wet thighs with his large white handkerchief; her bush so very 'in his face'; he even dabbed at her sex, at the hair between her legs and her soft folds, the handkerchief ending up very wet -- wet with Mr Riley's cum and her own excitement. She half wished Mr Riley would become excited again, the thought of his tongue pushing into the triangle of curls before his face, seeking out her slit and running over her fleshy hood onto her still tender clit, not unpleasing; would he mind it all being rather cummy?

But no, Mr Riley stood and there was no re-awakening of his cock. A shame. Sal would not have at all minded another suck and another fuck. Had the photographic club been present might, as at that rather dramatic evening, a fresh male model been pushed towards her? Sal reached for her knickers. She could certainly take another one or two. She had rather developed a liking for cock.

In bed that night, Sal thought back over the quarry visit and particularly wondered about the divers. What had they thought? It excited her to think of them as young men, but were they? Had they clambered out would she have discerned erections beneath the rubber of their suits, would long bulges have shown at their hips? Sal's fingers stroked and delved as she imagined them removing masks, aqualungs and then unzipping wet suits. What would they wear beneath? Warm, cosy and wet in her bed, Sal very much liked the idea of the men peeling their wet suits from their bodies to reveal they were wearing absolutely nothing. In her fantasy Mr and Mrs Riley were not there -- just she and the men. Three gorgeous young men, naked and stiff. Really stiff! Lovely to pose... all male curves and angles, Sal's fingers pushed into her body, three men just to herself -- not something she would have thought of, still less contemplated as an idea only a few months before. But now... Perhaps she might get up early and go for a walk in the morning -- and think about naked men. But for now, three young men in the sunshine by the quarry lake, three young men with upright penises. What an opportunity to photograph -- but she must keep them stiff. What should she do, what should she say? How might she gyrate her body, how imply she would be theirs for the taking; would it help if she occasionally stroked a nipple; would a touch or two to her pubic hair assist; perhaps if she was very clearly to slide one finger into herself and then casually lick her finger... yes -- and in her bed she more than mimed that and found herself sucking on that finger and thinking of sucking rather thicker things, indeed the three thicker things of the young men divers.

"I'll suck you all in a minute," in her bed she said it out loud as she imagined encouraging them to pose hard. Lovely, lovely hard cocks. What would it be like to suck one after another and then be taken by the young men one after another?

Her fingers worked as she imagined the scene and the after scene. She lying disported upon a rock in a pose of dramatic abandonment -- a beautifully lit photograph reminiscent of many classical paintings only with the semen leaking as the men reskinned themselves in their wet suits and slowly disappeared beneath the water. She would need Mrs Riley or someone to do the photograph! Sal smiled as her fingers stroked and her wetness dripped, nameless men from the water as if mere water spirits appearing to overly heated young girls -- and rather older women -- to satisfy and quench their carnal lusts. Her photographer's mind leapt to the idea of a story presented in photographs. A girl upon the rocky shore, it becoming clear through a series of photographs she is both aroused and frustrated, looks of longing upon her face; from the depths come three naked men -- difficult to photograph, Sal would want them surfacing through placid water, how long would they need to hold their breath to achieve that; they advance striding through the water with their hard penises appearing -- no wet suits, no nothing. She imagined a lovely shot, crisp and clear with the knobs just surfacing; the girl delighted; and then scenes upon the shore of sexual activity -- not depravity -- but the erotic dream of a girl totally lost in sexual bliss with the three water sprites and their lovely hard cocks. How difficult to effect, so many problems leading up to the after scene of the satiated girl lying almost in a pool of semen between her thighs as the water men sink beneath the water. Back view or front view of the young men as they go down? Should the last photograph be of the again placid lake or of the girl? So many problems.

Best if not in bright sunlight but a softening mist, yet with the sun pushing through as the water sprites surfaced but if a cold and misty morning difficult to get the men coming out of the cold water all hard! Difficult to avoid goose pimples on the girl's skin though it might make her nipples stand very nicely. All taken the same day or on multiple days to achieve all the right shots? What a task for the Photographic Club. Mrs Riley would be enthusiastic. If it all worked could they self-publish an art quality coffee table book of the story and photographs. Tasteful yet intensely erotic -- 'hard core' actually, not that Sal had ever seen hard core pornography on film or page even if the club had photographs of her which more than came into that category! And what of the models -- the actors and actress? The photography club was not over endowed with young members. Mrs Riley could hardly pose as the young girl, though no reason to suppose older women might not summon the three water sprites but perhaps not so photogenic for the book. There were Chloe and Paul. Chloe was pretty but they lived far away in Dorset. Perhaps difficult for them to get away for a few days and it had to be the right few days for the weather. Having them there would give one of the three young men in the form of Paul -- though did the men need to be young? One would certainly have to be her new friend, the black lad she had so spectacularly lost it with on the photography club's table.