Nadia in Prague

This is a teaser, to set the scene. If you are looking for instant cheating, swinging, or an affair, you will be disappointed. If you enjoy anticipation, then read on.

Prague, July, 2011. Nadia and I were cycle-touring in Europe when this happened. We had married straight from university, but not yet settled down. We had decided that, while we were young, we should do the things you cannot do when you have children, with a mortgage and the rest, so we had worked and saved to pay for a six month, long vacation.

We travelled light. Panniers on the backs of our bikes, light-weight camping gear, minimal clothes and nothing else, except our mobiles, to plan, and navigate, and keep in touch with our families and our friends back home.

Nadia's parents, in particular, were concerned about the trip. I had cycled and rough camped before, but she had not, and her mother can be anxious. As can Nadia. Maybe anxiety runs in the family, or you learn it as a child. But she had been determined to do it with me, and by the time that we reached Prague, I was seriously impressed.

Before we met, Nadia had never even cycled. She hardly exercised. She has a naturally good figure, not Playboy material, and she can be shy about her looks, but I liked the jeans and jumper look she had at university, and there was something about the curve of her nose, almost Arabic, and her slightly self-conscious smile that had got to me. Shy, but gorgeous, in an unassuming kind of way.

Beneath the jeans and jumper, it turned out, Nadia had a really sexy body. My exploring it, first time around, would make another story, since she was extremely nervous, telling me, just when I was about to enter her, that although she then was twenty, this was about to be her first time actually making love.

Difficult to believe, but entering her, it soon was obvious that she was not just being coy. She was the first, and only, virgin I have ever had the privilege of deflowering, and the resistance established firmly that I was indeed her first. The other, if proof was needed, was that the sheet had needed to be laundered.

That was only after we had finished, and Nadia, once entered, had relaxed, and had been delightful to make love to. She proved a natural, coming twice, so beautifully each time, before I could hold back no longer, and flooded her with the copious amount of semen that in your early twenties, you can produce each and every time.

But this is about Prague, and by then we were totally at ease with each other's bodies, fucked like rabbits every night, even when we camped, and were in the confines of our small tent, on unrolled sleeping mats. Nadia's legs had strengthened with all the cycling we had done already, Calais to Prague, via Amsterdam, Copenhagen, and Berlin. They were both more shapely, well defined, and they could grip more strongly too, around my body as we fucked.

We had taken a small hotel to stay in Prague a couple of days, and were using our bikes to get around. At lunch time, we had found a small city park in Charles Square, and we were eating sandwiches and drinks Cokes, when this began, with someone walking up to us and saying 'hi'.

"Hi, guys. Mind if we join you?" was the actual start to everything that followed.

Another couple, around our age, a guy and a girl. She had asked the question, jet black spikey hair, nose ring, black denim dungarees, with a black cotton crop top. He was in jeans and tee-shirt, back-pack on one shoulder, dirty blonde, Beatles-style hair, not shaved the way it is these days, although this was still fifty years post-Beatles, just over ten years ago.

She looked friendly. So did he. There was plenty of space around, so no reason to say 'No'.

"Sure," I said. "No problem."

They both sat down, the guy resting the back-pack he was carrying on the ground. A day bag, compartmentalised, from which he took out two cans of drink, one for the girl, one for himself. Red Bull, not Coke.

"Where are you guys from," Spikey asked us, pulled on the ring-tab of her can.

Her accent sounded German, not Czech, but I could not be sure, some of the accents sounding similar to my untuned ear. The fact that she was speaking English told me that she had assumed that we were tourists, and even guessed right which country we were from.

"Sutton," Nadia said, then realising the girl might not have heard of it, she added, "just south of London."

The chat went on from there, Greta and Helmut, as they told us they were called, finding out a bit about us, telling us about themselves. They were from Berlin, not Prague, so my guess at German had been right, and they were on a photoshoot, and looking for a model.

"So what kind of photos do you guys take?" I asked them.

"So, Helmut does a video, while I take stills," Greta explained. "We like to take in the main tourist attractions in whatever town we're in. But not just the sights. A pretty girl, that we can follow while she's walking round. Then we upload them to our site. It's fun. We make good money, especially if we find a model that our producer likes, if she's relaxed enough to do it well. The model makes good money too."

"If you're interested, that is," Helmut added.

It was the first hint that the reason they had asked to sit with us was more than just someone to talk with while they had their drinks.

"What?" laughed Nadia, "You don't mean us? You want us to model for you?"

"Just you," Greta said. "You've got the kind of looks we want. Don't take it wrong. Our producer likes the normal girl in the street, not a made-up model. Someone who you would not expect to do it, but with a good figure, and a nice face, of course."

I glanced at Nadia, wondering just what kind of looks Greta meant. College girl, still early twenties, dark brown hair, in good shape, not least from all our cycling. Just what Greta meant by her needing to be relaxed enough, we would find out in due course.

Nadia gave me a look in return. Puzzlement, embarrassment, both in her eyes, and in the slight pouting thing she did with her mouth. Then she burst out laughing.

"You're not really serious!" she said. "I mean, come on. I'm not exactly a professional tour guide!"

"So why do you think we asked to join you?" Greta said. "There is definitely something about your look. Can we just take some shots of you to see how photogenic you are?"

Nadia did that pouty thing again.

"Sure," she said. "If you want to. I don't mind."

Greta asked Helmut for her camera, and he drew it from the back-pack. It was serious piece of kit. A heavy camera, with a substantial lens, from which Greta unscrewed the lens cap. Then she stood up, backed off, got on one knee, and aimed at Nadia.

Nadia leaned back on her arms, and smiled, while Greta fired off a couple of shots. Helmut went behind her, looking at the screen at the back of the camera to see how good the shots were.

"It's good," Greta reassured my wife, then added the request that gave away the kind of photoshoot they had in mind.

"Can you move your top in to the centre just a bit? I want to see one breast."

That needs explaining.

When we had set off, Nadia had been wearing cycling shorts and tee-shirt tops, with sports bras and standard panties underneath. I had suggested she could be a bit more chilled, since we were just anonymous cycle tourists anywhere we went, and she had gradually given in to my encouragement.

The cycle shorts had given way to cut off denim shorts, which I had done myself with scissors, hacking at them roughly, initially level with her crotch, but a week later cutting even higher at the side, angling up, which gave me a nice view of her butt when cycling behind her, and left not much more than threads between her legs.

Instead of a tee-shirt, Nadia had been persuaded to wear a yoga top instead. Deep arm holes instead of sleeves, the sides open almost to the waist. At first, she had worn a sports bra underneath the top, but then I had persuaded her to leave that off.

'If you've got it, flaunt it,' is the catch phrase that kind of sums it up. I was cycle touring with a girl with an amazing body. I had married her. I fucked her every night, and day-time too, depending on just where we were. I just liked to show her off. To have other people look and wish that they could fuck her too.

And, of course, it turned me on as well. I liked the side view of her breasts, especially when she leaned forward, as she had to while we rode. The loose cut top would just fall forwards, revealing the delicious undercurve, and, with luck, her areola and her nipple too. She knew that, but she also knew it turned me on for her to take that risk, and she said she liked the freedom that not wearing anything constricting meant.

So when Greta asked her to move her yoga top to the centre, it was a straightforward request. The top was loose enough to do it easily. The fact that it was a girl asking her to do it made it seem no more than an innocent suggestion. Had it been Helmut who had said it, that would have been something very different.

Just the same, Nadia looked confused.

"You're joking!" she said, shaking her head. "I can't do that! Not here! People can see!"

Which was true, of course. This was a city park, not that large, more long and narrow, with city streets on either side. There were trees and shrubbery planted around the sides, but you could still see through to the buildings on the other side of the streets, and the traffic driving through. There were also people in the park, walking, or like ourselves, sitting, eating, lazing in the summer sun.

"It's just to check how you look on film," Greta reassured her. "Just for a moment. No one is going to notice while you're just sitting there."

I looked at Nadia, interested to see how she would react.

"What do you think?" she asked me.

"I think she's right," I said. "No one is going to care."

Just the same, I was wondering why it needed Nadia to bare her breast for the spikey-haired German girl to check how photogenic she would be.

My wife of less than a year shrugged. The she did as Greta had asked. She slid one hand inside her top, eased it from her right breast, so that that side of the top was between her breasts, but kept her hand cupping her nipple and areola.

"Lean back," Greta suggested, without making an issue of the fact that Nadia was not baring her breast completely.

Nadia did as Greta said, using her left arm to support herself, hand flat on the grass behind her.

Greta fired off a few more shots, turning the zoom lens as she did so. Then she tested just how far my wife would go.

"That's good," she said. "Now lean back on both hands. Show me your breast."

I had to admire her technique. Use a calm, reassuring tone of voice, but with just a hint of authority, enough to subtly make it an instruction, not a request. The way a professional photographer would guide a model in a studio. Except this was outside, and in public.

Nadia took her hand away.

I had of course seen both her breasts so often that I knew them intimately. For someone so unassuming, they are exquisite. Not overly full, but pleasantly generous. With wide areoles and prominent nipple stubs, that have since proven more than adequate for our two children. Then, of course, they were not so much sources of sustenance for babies, as objects of my sexual desires.

I had fondled those breasts, and teased those nipple stubs, and sucked on them, and knew how sensitive they were, and discovered that my wife could come, just from licking and sucking on her breasts, before I even entered her.

Just the same, familiar as I was with both of them, seeing her right breast bared in that public park, the sun highlighting the pink-brown of the areola, was just incredible.

Greta fired off several more shots, again turning the zoom lens as she took them, presumably getting close-ups as well as full body shots of Nadia. She then stood up, and checked the shots that she had taken on the built-in screen. Helmut joined her, nodding. He spoke to her in German. I picked up on a few words. The German for 'beautiful', and for 'good'.

Nadia, meanwhile, had covered her breast again, easing her top back over it, as soon as Greta had stood up.

"I can't believe you let me do that!", she half-whispered to me. "What kind of photo-shoot do they really want? I mean,..."

She gave up on saying what she meant. I could only guess. As I could only guess as to why Greta had asked my wife to bare her breast in the first place. I just shrugged in reply, giving Nadia a look that said I did not know.

What I did know, was the several passers-by had seen what was going on, and had barely reacted. My wife's bare breast had not caused a scene. No one had been outraged. No one had stopped and stared. One woman, walking on her own, had actually smiled. Greta had been right. But then, presumably, she had taken these kinds of shots before.

"So," Greta said at last, reverting to English while she spoke to Nadia. "We think you take excellent photos. If it is okay, perhaps you can walk around a little. Helmut will make video of you. Yes?"

"Okay,..." Nadia agreed, but with a question mark in her voice to indicate that she was unsure just where this might be going.

Just the same, she stood up, while Helmut went to his backpack again, this time bringing out a video camera, in its own zipped up case, removing it. The camera was larger the ones that tourists use, with a wide lens at the front, and a fold out hand grip at the side. He put it to his shoulder, aimed at some passing people, and took a fifteen second video of them. Then he checked how good it looked. Nodded to Greta. The signal that he was now ready to shoot.

"Okay, so," said Greta, "maybe you can go to the fountain, then walk back to here, while Helmut shoots you walking? It's good with you?"

"Okay," Nadia said again, shrugging her shoulders this time.

She left the grass and went to the path, starting to walk towards the fountain.

"Nadia," Greta called to her, my wife turning back to see why she had called. "Maybe when you are walking back to us, you can do the same thing with your top. Just for a minute. Yes?"

Nadia glanced at me, then answered.

"Okay," she said, although actually sounding not too sure. "I can do that."

She strolled on down the tarmac path, her butt undulating, the undercurves of her butt cheeks so nicely exposed by the high cut of her shorts. It was the first time that I had watched her from behind like that, walking, not cycling, and she looked incredible sexy. I was so lucky to have walked her up the aisle.

The path formed a circle around the fountain, and when she reached it Nadia turned. She started walking back towards us, arms by her sides. Then finally, her hand slipped beneath her yoga top, and she eased the side in towards the centre, that way that she had done while sitting down. Her right breast bared again, she casually walked on, arms held naturally at her sides.

She was still a good thirty feet away from us. Meanwhile, people were walking the other way. Two women with a pram. A couple in their fifties. A businessman in suit and tie. With Nadia walking towards them, breast exposed, her wide areola bare, the nicely generous flesh swaying as she walked from side to side.

What she did next surprised me. She used her other hand. Collected the front of her yoga top into a bunch and drew it in between her breasts, which are full enough to hold it there. Now both her breasts were exposed, the fabric of the yoga top nestling between them.

"Wow," said Greta, "your wife has modelled before?"

"No," I said. "Not that I know of."

"She's good though," Greta said. "Maybe a natural, for what we have in mind."

It lasted no more than a minute. Then as she got close, Nadia eased her top out from between her breasts and widened it to cover them again. She grinned. Then laughed.

"I can't believe I did that!" she said, to me.

"You looked amazing, though," I said.

"I think so," Helmut agreed. "Let me just review this for a moment."

He did his thing with the video camera, using the eye-piece. Then flipped out a screen at the side of the camera that was bigger than a mobile phone.

"Okay," he said. "You can see it here."

Nadia and I stood side by side to view the screen. Small as it was, it was in perfect focus, and the detail was explicit. My wife looked almost like a professional, strutting her stuff on the park's walkway, both breasts bare, and undulating with each step she took.

"Oh my God," said Nadia. "I am such a slut, to do that. And no one even seemed to care! I can't believe that's me!"

"Actually," I said. "I think you look pretty good."

Once he had shown us, Helmut played it one more time for Greta.

"It's good," she said. "I think that we should send it now to Werner."

Helmut hesitated. He frowned. He said something in German, raising his eyebrows in a question as he spoke.

"Completely?" Greta asked him.

"I think it's better," Helmut said.

"Completely what?" Nadia asked them, echoing my own thought.

"Helmut is wondering if you would be willing to do the same again, but this time take your top completely off. Leave it here with us."

"You're serious?" I asked.

Not so much a question as an expression of disbelief. This was a city park. Not a designated naturist area, although there are some German town and cities that do designate parts of parkland for those who like to sunbathe nude. Not Prague, which in any case is Czech. Not as far as I knew, at least.

"We should tell them first," Greta said to Helmut.

He shrugged.

"Okay," he said. Maybe it is best you say it now, say what we do. Then they can decide. No?"

They looked at each other. Then Greta decided, and started to explain.

"Okay, guys," she started. "So we film girls, women, for our web-site, walking in whichever town. We bring them to the more famous places, and we ask them to walk around, and Helmut videos, while I take photographs."

"So far, we have already more than twenty girls in different cities. It is good business. Men, and it is mostly men, like to subscribe, and view the videos, for relaxation. It is not just for Germany, but all of Europe, and in fact, now the site is online in most countries, USA, Russia, Australia, Japan, you say the name, and it is there."

"So first, before we say anything too certain, we must send a video to Werner. He decides if the girl is suitable. But obviously, if we are to make video of her naked in these places, he will want to see her naked first. We cannot offer the fee without that he has made his approval. It is too much for that. Five thousand euros is a good amount of money after all."

She had slipped in the key word without making it an issue. It was nothing special. Just what they did. They filmed girls walking naked, in European cities, and distributed the videos to anyone who watched. Nothing unusual. Just routine business. Said just like that.

Nadia and I looked at each other, non-plussed, neither of us knowing what to say. They were actually suggesting that Nadia model for them, naked, in various places around the city, places where there would be tourist attractions, which meant people, and were offering us, or her, five thousand euros if she agreed.

I guess, inside, I was quite chuffed that they had chosen us to ask. Not me, of course, but Nadia. Out of all the girls in Prague, they had selected her, the girl that I had married, which said something for my taste in women. Or my good luck. It was quite an accolade. To be spotted, even if it was a soft porn video that they were suggesting she should make.

I was also thinking about the risks involved, the police, or outraged passers-by, or interested men. Then going on a web-site, Nadia being watched by men on lap-tops, to get their rocks off, her being seen by anyone and everyone, maybe by friends and relatives. I thought of her mother, and wondered what on earth she would think. Actually, I already knew.