The Photographer

When my husband asked me to take some photos of my self for his birthday, I didn't quite understand what he meant. We had dozens of pictures around the house from numerous events and parties, not to mention our own wedding. Smiles and treasured memories covered walls and bookshelves.

No, he said, other pictures.

I hadn't truly understood what he meant until he gave me a box wrapped in a gold bow. I'm no prude but the outfit he bought me made me blush. A tiny little black number that pushed my breasts together, and a thong bottom that accentuated my ample ass. I'd be bashful wearing this in front of my husband, let alone a complete stranger with a camera. When I went upstairs to try it on I was amazed. My husband had gotten the size perfectly right.

It was the next day when my husband handed me a card with an address and a bag with my new outfit in it. Your appointment is in a half hour, he said, and gave my ass a playful smack as I left the house.

I drove to the studio and was greeted by a handsome, reserved man. His hair, slightly graying at the temples, framed a classic face and strong jaw.

He first sat me down on a couch, it was long and leather and I was still wearing the clothes that I had worn in to his studio. He told me to relax and smile naturally. The first picture he took was only of my face which I found surprising. I thought he would jump right in to the erotic photographs, but he was completely professional the entire time. He went back to his desk and changed the lens of the camera, saying something about how the light off my face required a different sort of focus. Then he asked me to show him what I had brought for the shoot. I showed him and he complimented the outfit, remarking how he was sure my husband would love the pictures.

He asked me to change and I stepped away into a small changing room and put on the outfit. My nervousness was incredible as I was about to step out and show this man, but I breathed deep and calmed myself. I walked towards him and the bed he had set up.

Lay down, he told me. And I did. Something about the command aroused me in a way that I hadn't felt before. Sure, my husband had done his share of dirty talk with me, but never like this. His voice was all business. I felt a warmth creep through me and I obeyed.

His camera was clicking over and over, him adjusting minute angles and catching me from different perspectives. I switched poses as I slowly became more comfortable in his studio. I thought of everything my husband would want; first the laying down, then on my stomach and pose after pose. I was getting more and more aroused as my poses become more daring. A hand between my thighs, then arms over my head. One with me on all fours and then kneeling, looking into the lens of the camera

But I noticed a frustration growing inside me. The photographer was still blandly interested in me, and that only as a subject of a picture. He seemed so clinical and workmanlike. I wanted him to want me and nothing I was doing was having an effect on him. Why wasn't he turned on? My body was on display for him and he barely seemed to notice.

About twenty minutes later he said he were finished and he complimented me on being such a wonderful subject. He said he was sure the pictures would turn out great. I changed and quickly left. As I got to my car, I realized I had left my phone on a table and went back to get it.

I went back to the door and saw the light from his laptop shining, a slideshow of pictures ready for editing and touch ups no doubt. I silently opened the door to get a better look at what was on his screen.

The pictures of me he had just taken. I was glad, we had just taken them today and I was happy to see him getting started on them right away. I was excited to share them with my husband, even though we had only taken them this afternoon. I heard him coming back into the studio and slid back behind the door, not wanting to disrupt his creative process. I had seen all the examples of his work on his studio walls and they had all been exceptional. All I could do was hope that he would give my photos the same kind of care and attention.

As he sat down at his desk I moved quietly away. But just as I was about to leave I heard him unzipping his pants. It couldn't be, he had been so professional today, without even a hint of impropriety. He had barely looked at me, it felt. His eyes only for the composition of a photograph. It's true I hadn't been completely naked but even the most disciplined of men's eyes would wander when confronted with as much skin as I was showing.

But there he was, slowly releasing his large cock from his pants. It stood up straight and rigid and with fascination in my eyes I watched him slowly wrap his fingers around it. He started pumping slowly and with his free hand he was scrolling through my pictures.

First one of me standing, then sitting. Then slowly the poses progressed until I was on the bed, legs crossed protectively and my arms outstretched to either side. He scanned through a few more photos and paused on one.

I was kneeling and leaning towards the camera and looking straight at it, arms crossed under my breasts, pushing them up and threatening to spill out of the bra. My mouth was slightly open and a look of lust emanating from my eyes.

I watched as his pace increased, the head glistening as he pumped it over and over again. I stood silently with quivering knees and a heat growing between my thighs. He unbuttoned his shirt and revealed a well muscled torso. He took his hand off his cock and it stood straight up, pulsing with each beat of his heart. He gripped it once again and with one final stroke, a geyser of cum erupted from his impressive member, covering his hand and the head of his cock. and landing on his tight stomach. I stared at his glistening cock and wondered what that might have felt like in my hand, in my mouth, or deep inside me.

I slipped away quietly as I could and made it to my car with my shaky legs carrying me as quietly as they could. Once I made it to the car, and after a few deep breaths I played the images back in my head. A handsome man pleasuring himself to pictures of me he taken only moments before. My arousal was incredible and it took a few minutes before I was able to drive him. I knew one thing: that I couldn't wait to see the pictures.