Fully Exposed

It will come as no surprise to you all that I like to have my photo taken, and what's more, that I like to be photographed outside and often naked. What might come as a surprise however is what happened only a year or so back?

The weather had been usual for a Scottish summer. We joke up here that we had a great summer, this year it was on a Thursday! It's true to say that it can be more miss than hit, the difference between winter and summer, only being the temperature of the rain. So having had more than a few weekends of pulling back the bedroom curtains to announce loudly and with a feeling of deflation, that,

"It's pissing it down again."

It was, with a sense of disbelief and excitement, that I woke one Saturday morning, around 6.30, I struggle to have a lay in, as Hubby is, to say the very least, a creature of habit. He gets up at 05.45 every bloody day, work day, weekend or holiday. He says it's 'Just me', hmmm, I wish it wasn't some mornings. But this Saturday morning, it was me who bounced out of bed, yes bounced. I can do bounce some mornings and this was one of those, bounce moments. Like a demented puppy I pulled open the curtains and turning from the glaring sunlight, flung myself onto the king size bed, landing legs splayed either side of Hubby and announced, with childlike glee and a grin like a madwoman on speed,

"I want a photo shoot in the old barn today," "Naked, well with my highest heels on," I enthused, "Can we, can we, can we, can we,"

I repeated until he grabbed my waist, twisted me like a rag-doll and pitched me from his chest onto my back, legs, arms and hair flailing as I tumbled, laughing like a child.

"But we can, can't we?"

I checked, before blowing him a huge, animated kiss,

"You could always fuck me afterwards, if you want to that is?" I questioned, as if this would be the offer that sealed his decision.

It must have been around 10 o'clock when Hubby popped his head round the half open bedroom door. "You going to be ready any time this month," he quipped, camera in hand.

"Just some lippy to pop on and I'm good to go,"

I grinned without breaking from the vital task of messing up my hair, I wanted a wild

but sexy look. No costume to sort was a great help and so, five pairs of shoes later, I was ready. 'Oh yes Jo, looking hot today', I told myself in my buzzing head, as I checked my figure, make-up and 7" tartan heels in the mirror, oh yes, very fuckable!

The walk to the oldest barn on the farm is not one to attempt in 7" heels, but I'm a 'proper girl' and a 'proper girl' can climb a mountain in heels and so, without any support from Hubby, I set off with the occasional wobble across the yard. The sun was warm, bright and felt oh so good on my naked body as I dipped between sunlight and shadow, as through the numerous old buildings we trekked, Hubby, camera and tripod in hand, me making silly comments and trying not to spill my wine. Oh, didn't I say? I always, but always have a glass of Pino in hand, before during and after a shoot. It's not a 'Dutch courage' thing, just an aid to relaxation I always tell him.

"A relaxed model, is an easy model to work with,"

He told me a number of years back, so I get, relaxed. Cobbles dispensed with, like heading from a taxi after a night on the prosecco, we arrived at the first location. The light through the old roof, skylights and crumbling door was stunning. Hubby's face light up like a sunrise through the mist as he beamed,

"This is going to be stunning."

He works quickly when taking shots, as he knows to be honest, that I get fidgety if he takes too long. I sometimes flit from pose to pose, before he says next or gives me an instruction. This, I have learned over time, bugs him no end and an 'artist' bugged, is no good to a slightly tipsy model.

Now, although our farm is quite remote and at the end of a dead end track, on occasions we get the 'odd' tourist drive down. I say 'odd' as some really are. They fly down the single track road like it's a motorway, then screech, dust and stones fly up their hire car as they discover the tarmac road surface gone and the ruts and potholes begin. It's quite funny to watch and quite frustrating if your trying to look moody, smouldering and sexy, with your tits out. Hubby, every few shots, will therefore take a quick look around to make sure we are still alone. It's going to sound odd, but, showing my naked body in a photo a video or even on a few occasions a webcam, more of that another day, is one thing. Showing it to an elderly German couple, looking for the castle is just, well, a bit weird. So I'd rather he did his security guard role and just gave me a heads-up if a car is heading our way. At least then I can cover up, even if it's very obvious what we are doing. I know, I never said I wasn't odd and complex.

So there we were. The perfect light, the perfect location, Hubby encouraging, his perfect model we got shooting, Hubby calling the shots,

"Looking stunning baby," "Just look down and then eyes up through your hair,

perfect, perfect, just beautiful." He called, from the camera. Makes a girl feel so good, when after nearly 30 years of marriage, your other half still finds you body a turn on, a thrill to look at and loves to show you off.

The thing with Hubby is this. He spent years at art college, studied all sorts of medium and knows a good shot when he sees one. He has an eye for a look, a look that suits my body shape, which is far from perfect, but it's me. He knows how to pose me, how to get the looks I like and well, guys like you like too. Our shoots are usually art erotica, with a little naughtier, spread legs and occasional spread and played with pussy action for added thrills. Anyone can lay on a bed and play with their tits and pussy, I always think. I like to add 'some' art, some erotic edge to a shoot, and Hubby helps me get that.

Shots were 'clicking' away like gun fire. Hubby was stood, knelt, laid crouched on the cobbles. I was popping poses like smarties and the shoot was just flowing with an ease that felt so good, so relaxed. I smiled when asked, I smouldered, when instructed, I licked lips, looked distant and all the while naked in my fave shoes.

As the light changed and shadows shifted Hubby suggested we move to the open end of the old barn where a rusty iron gate would act as a prop to bend over. Showing my bum is, I must admit, not my favourite pose, but guys, Hubby included love my bum and legs, so it has become part of my repertoire. I know my legs are good and in high heels they look even better, but my bum is, shall we say, another story.

"Ok, love," he instructed, "Hands wide on the second to top rail of the gate, legs wide apart and pop your bum up."

Oh I hate this pose, but guys go wild for it, so, I obliged, reluctantly, but hey ho.

"That's the one, hold it there." He gushed. "You look so hot baby, honest you look stunning."

Well with those words in my head, I tensed my legs and popped my bum higher, dipping my back to emphasise the shape, like I was offering it up for a bit of 'doggie style' fun.

It was then that it happened. How, we both can still not fathom out, but it happened. I was bent, bum in the air, tits hanging, arms stretched out on the gate, for the entire world to see, except there was no one to see, was there? WRONG.........as I shuffled my slightly slipping shoes into the cobbles of the barn, there they were. Four lycra clad men on mountain bikes riding past the barn, heads down, clattering across the uneven gravely of the track adjacent to the barn. If we kept our cool, remained silent like in Jurassic Park, when the Tyrannosaurus comes calling, we would be fine. I froze, Hubby went silent................ we were home and dry. The only issue was, we weren't. With a screech of brakes and puffs of dust they stopped one after another and as they turned to chat, and then they stared open mouthed like children

confronting Santa in their bedroom, only to find it's really Dad.

They stood for what felt like ages but in reality was probably only 30 seconds. Can you image the thoughts going through there plastic helmeted heads, as there in full view, was a naked woman, bent over a gate with her big tits hanging like something from a porn film. No, neither can I. They stared, I froze, Hubby laughed, he fucking laughed! I kid you not, the last thing you want to hear in a situation like this is a laugh. An apology, and fumbled explanation maybe, but a laugh, no. He maintains to this day that it was just a shocked reaction, but I know him better. He sees humour in the oddest things so this, in my mind, was no exception.

As we all stood, well I was hardly stood, but you get my drift, in some sort of porno Mexican stand-off, I spoke.

"Hi,"

Hi, was the best I could manage at short notice as I, like a new born giraffe struggled to stand back upright as casually as one can when naked in front of total strangers.

"Hi," I repeated, as if repeating it, would make it better, easier or less weird.

"We, erh, we're just doing a photo shoot," "It's our farm,"

I added attempting to make it all the more legitimate. Now at this point I was expecting the men to make red faced excuses, hope back onto their bikes and peddle off, but they didn't. They continued to stare and in fact turning their bikes, move towards us, and by us, I mean, well, me. I'm not sure they had clocked Hubby on his knees camera still in hand some feet behind me.

"Haddaway bonny lass, ya kiddin me!" The bolder of the men replied.

As they came closer, uncomfortably closer, I began to see their age. These were no young fit guys, but, how shall I put this politely, older gentlemen, who should not, no make that should never, wear lycra. Now at a distance of about ten feet, the leader of the group spoke.

"Wow," he exclaimed with a deep Geordie accent that lifted and fell seductively,

"Scotland's a beautiful place like, yorra proper bobby dazzler if ya don't mind me sayin like"

Well at least he was polite I surmised.

"Ya do this for all the tourist then pet?" he questioned. "Can we watch like?"

Now that was the question I was not expecting, not that I was expecting any of this.

"Just watch like, nowt funny like" he added,

With an element of empathy that for a moment disarmed me.

"WHY NOT!"

Piped up a distant voice from the shadows behind me. What the actual fuck, Hubby was making some very bold and unilateral decisions here. Why not. There were at least a hundred very strong reasons why not, but hey, why not.

"Arh canny, cheers man, come on lads, shift ya sells." Geordie man replied

Oh he was good at this, real good. I bet every time he finds a naked woman in a barn he has this best lines loaded and ready to fire.

"Crack on," he offered, like it was his to call, as he and his mates sat on a bail. "We could do a break n the views proper stunning like,"

He quipped as if to legitimise his previous comment.

"Ya tats are canny like, ar love em."

He exclaimed as he sat himself down on a rough hay bale, beckoning his mates over. Did he just say tatts, or tits, I remember thinking, His accent was thick and to be honest a little sexy, but I digress.

Before I could reply back, the decision was made.

"O.k Jo, just squat down, hands on your thighs."

Hubby's voice called from his position against the wall.

What.....was Hubby mad, was he seriously just going to 'crack on' with the shoot? Was my head not my own, my thoughts mine? No clearly not. As I moved and turned my back on my audience, I squatted, hands instinctively clasping my thighs, spreading my legs wide for balance. Oh my God, I was there, I was on autopilot. I was naked in front of three total strangers and I was powerless to resist, or to stop myself. I was out of reasons why not to, so I continued like a Pavlovian puppy. As I moved from pose to pose, I became less and less concerned or aware that I had an audience sat only feet from me. I was unaware until that is, I turned to sit, legs spread wide on an old pile of bales near the barn door. Then I became aware, very aware.

Now lycra is a very clever material, it can keep you warm, dry and it's breathable. It makes great if not the best sports clothing. What it's not good at, or so I found, was hiding erections. It appears that if you are to sit and watch a naked woman provocatively model in front of you, then lycra is perhaps not the clothing of choice.

As I sat, spread my legs wide and leaned forward grasping my ankles to hang my big, heavy tits, my eyes lifted to a spectacular view. All I could see from this position was a row of hard cocks straining through near opaque cycling shorts. For all the world

they could have worn nothing and hidden there obvious pleasure better. Now I would have prior to this day, expected to have been shocked and or embarrassed by this sight. I was neither, in fact I remember the feelings well, I was excited. I was thrilled like a stripper in a 'working mens' club. They were captives, mine to tease, to toy with and toy I did.

"Oh babe." was all Hubby could blurt out, as I went from art erotica to pure porn in one movement.

My clearly aroused audience sat transfixed as I slowly slid my hands up my ankles, calves, then thighs, and sat back upright before them. Legs still spread wide, I made my move. As if I had done this all my life, I cupped and grasped at my full, heavy tits, pinching the nipples hard as in the distance Hubby's words faded into background noise and the 'click', 'click', 'click', of the camera encouraged me onwards. Nipples went from nipped between fingers to pulled hard with fingernails, making then so erect they almost hurt. Hands slipped softly from breasts to stomach and as one hand settled on my hip, my other slid between my legs to spread, what soon became apparent was a rather wet pussy.

My audience by now were on the edge of their seats, well bales. One was even stood and from the movements he was making, I was soon to see how aroused he was. His age might not have been in his favour, but from what I could make out through the skin tight lycra of his shorts, his cock left nothing wanting. He pulled and wriggled almost comically as he tried to get his shorts down, but once he did his cock literally sprang out from its confines. He was big, proper big and as he pulled back his loose foreskin to reveal a plump purple helmet, he was caught.

"Haddaway man, ya canny be doin that!" Geordie shouted at his friend, getting to his feet, his own erection clear in his shorts.

"Its fine," I smiled, through deep breathes, "Just no touching, right?" I added to make my point clear.

"Ya hear that Frankie, ya don't touch the lady, right!"

Geordie was in control and what he said appeared to be taken notice off. Frankie stood rooted to the spot, his big cock in hand and judging from his contorted face he was not going to be able to hold back one second longer. He didn't, he had barely got his balance, tight shorts pulling his knees together when he let out a guttural gasp and still looking at my tits, he came. His knees buckling as one thick glob of jizz jumped arcing from his tip and clenched tight fingers to fall to the floor. This was followed by another strong spurt then oozing dribbles that covered his finger in sticky thick globs of cum. He closed then reopened his eyes and jerked the last drop from his tip, before turning and wobbling to the shadows to clean up.

Fingers that had been holding my wet lips apart for Frankie's pleasure were now slid with one subtle movement inside the wet soft folds of my pussy. Oh it felt so good, so wrong, so dirty, so wild but so, so right. My head flung back, blonde hair falling from my face to over my shoulders, as I caught sight of another man pulling his shorts down. His cock, of average length, but far from average thickness swung wildly and jumped like an eager puppy as he adjusted his position, and as he grasped his shaft, Geordie man not wanting to miss his turn, also got to his feet and moved closer. To encourage my new friends, if any encouragement were needed, I plunged sticky fingers in deeper and with more vigour parting the soft sticky folds of my lips.

Geordie man liked my new moves, he liked them a lot. He moved closer before, with shorts pulled down, tight across his thighs, he dropped to his knees, now only feet from me. With cock in hand he pumped with the vigour of a teenage boy wanking over his first porno magazine, his eyes running up and down my writhing body, trying to take it all in. It was surreal, a rush and as I thrust and ground my fingers in deeper and faster, my once fluid juices now became sticky and syrupy, as they dripped from my wide open lips.

"Oh fuck, fuck," I moaned, groaned and gasped, with each squelchy movement.

Geordie man also became more vocal, "Fuck lady, he gasped," His red engorged helmet clenched tight in his right hand. "Fuck, a man can only tek so much pet."

My audible gasps must have hit the spot. Geordie man looked me in the eye, glanced down at his cock and gripping it tight, his veins and red helmet bulging, he came. Shuddering and visibly shaking he continued to pump his fist, milking every drop from his balls as they slapped onto the lycra bridge of his stretched shorts bellow them. His sticky spunk trickled in thick ropes down his clenched fingers and onto the straw and cobbles.

"OOH JEEEZ!" He managed as one final jerk ripped through his body, spitting the last of his cum onto his shorts, as more oozed from his helmet and dribbled down his vein thickened shaft to stop on his now empty balls. Opening my mouth seductively, eyes locked on his, I slipped my fingers from my pussy to smear the creamy juice across my lips, making them glisten, before closing them tight to suck each finger clean. I smiled my pleasure at his show, as he stumbled to his feet, cock still hard and red from his pleasure, spunk still dripping in globs from his swollen tip and shaking hand.

In my experience it's always the quiet ones to watch and here was no exception. The last one to show me his excitement had never spoken a word since discovering me naked. He too stood but in two stumbling steps was at my side before I could turn to say no. He had a body of a younger man, an athlete. His legs were all and I mean all muscle. He was so close to my shoulder now, I could feel his heat and as I turned to take in the view of his circumcised cock, hard, and erect, stood proudly swaying for

my approval I instinctively, cupped my left breast and raised it for him, his red precum oozing tip, now inches from my skin. He, taking his cue from my action, pumped his fist hard and with head back, he moaned loudly. As his fist flashed up and down his rippled shaft, his balls slapped and swung wildly before he emptied a thick load across my boob, and neck, thick globs dropping to my spread tattooed thigh.

"YES, YEAH, FUCK YES!" He gasped as each stroke produced more strands of flying cum.

His cock all thick veined red and glistening with spunk, jerked as another load spurted hard from his tip, catching me across the left cheek and dripping from my chin to my already spunk smeared breast. He buckled from the waist, his tip touching my shoulder, the final stands of cum, spurted then dribbled from his fingers. What didn't hit my skin dripped to the floor as he stepped back gasping loudly, cock still in hand.

That left one. He could resist no longer and as he approached me, I held my juice wet hand out, palm upwards, beckoning his pleasure. He pumped long and slow on his thick shaft pulling and sliding his foreskin fore and back across his precum glossed helmet. As his balls landed in my palm with a soft but heavy slap, I squeezed them gently, rolling them between my fingers. He jerked, gasped and rocked visibly as I caressed them as they moved to my touch, they were havey, full and hot. He was close and was fast losing the battle to make the experience last any longer. The ferocity of his climax made me gasp. He spurted, not one but four long, strong, hot jets of thick cum across my arm, some spatters aiming their way to my tattooed thigh and already cum glossed breasts. His knees buckled, his face red with pleasure and sweat, he gasped, eyes wide like he was shocked at the power of his own climax,