Unwitting Porn Star Wife

"That's right, baby," I said. "Keep doing it, fast."

She looked at me and at my camera and smiled while she fucked herself with the toy. It drove me wild: my hot wife, enjoying exposing herself to me as much as I enjoyed looking at her.

I took picture after picture. The scene drove me so crazy that I wanted to stroke myself, but I couldn't waste on precious second. I had to take as many photos of her as I could while the perfect light lasted.

Lissa, on the bench, frigging her hot snatch with the toy, looked better than any porn star. She kept her legs far apart and the toy pushed in and out with break-neck speed and her mouth opened, and little squeals came out, increasing in volume as she kept stroking.

"That's right, Lissa," I encouraged her. "Keep doing that."

I kept clicking and clicking, taking as many photos as I possibly could.

"Unh," she cried, louder than before. A spritz of moisture flowed from her open pussy.

"That's it, Lissa," I said. "Don't stop. Squirt it all out."

Her whole body spasmed and her pussy sprayed its wetness in every direction. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I'd never seen anything like it before. I'd seen Lissa squirt, more or less, in the past, but nothing like this. She pulled the toy away from her pussy and her body kept shaking, and she kept squirting.

It was an irregular spray at first, but soon it became a thin straw-colored arc flowing from inside her and splashing to the dirt below. Lissa had completely lost control of her body. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth was open and mewling noises welled up from deep inside her.

All I could think about was how great the photos were going to be.

It took her a long time to finish, and when she did, she opened her eyes and looked down at the mess she had made and then looked me in the eye. I dared not break eye contact, but out of the side of my eye I saw all the wetness on the bench between her legs and on the dirt below.

"Damn, Lissa," I said.

She breathed heavily, struggling to respond.

"You like?"

"I love."

I couldn't take it anymore. I had to have her. With whatever faint trace of self-possession, I had, I set up the camera on the tripod to focus on her on the bench, and with the camera remote control in one hand I went to Lissa, and I grasped her two ankles in my hands and threw those hot legs to the air. Briefly, one hand left an ankle and went to the zipper of my pants and with great difficulty I opened and awkwardly fished out my hard cock out of my pants until it wobbled in Lissa's direction.

"What are you going to do with that?" she asked.

"You know what I'm going to do with it. Lie back and take it."

And that's exactly what she did. My hot squirt-covered wife lay back on the bench and I pressed my prick forward until its tip met her pussy, and then I ran it up and down her slit a few times until it was nice and open and ready for me. And then I pushed in.

I fucked my wife, as hard as I ever had, and with as much passion and ardor and need as I'd ever felt. The bench couldn't have been comfortable for her, but I didn't care, and I don't think she did either. I fucked my lovely wife hard and fast as the sun set in the park. My mind was mush, but not so much that I didn't remember to click the camera remote a few times so it would capture the sight of my wife's pussy being plundered and filled by my hard cock.

And Oh God, did I come fast. I was almost embarrassed. It was like being 18 years old all over again and totally out of control of one's body. I spewed my cum into Lissa, pulse after pulse. I don't think she gave a damn that it happened so fast. She had already come, and she was out of control, too, and her body pushed against mine as I dumped every single bit of my milky seed into her pussy that I could.

When the fucking was done, I breathed hard like I'd just finished a marathon. Lissa breathed hard too, and her eyes shown in the dying light. I pulled out of her, and my shrinking cock flopped over and white cum dribbled over Lissa's skin and the stone bench. Thank God that somehow, I remembered to keep clicking the camera remote.

I stood up and kept staring at my wife Lissa, naked and spread open on the bench in front of me, and my cock dangling from my pants.

I don't know how long we remained in that position, but we heard a noise in the bushes and a steady footfall, and suddenly somebody emerged from a trail, running. A young man, huffing and puffing. He pulled up and stopped and looked at us. Lissa saw him and gasped and tried to close her legs, but I held them and wouldn't let her, and I could see from the drift of his gaze that the young male runner got his fill of Lissa's freshly fucked and very wet pussy.

"Fuck," he said. He looked at Lissa, and then at me, and then he ran on.

"Let me up, Matt," Lissa said.

I let go of her legs and Lissa stood up and she pulled her dress back over her body and stepped into her flip flops. The wetness on her body darkened parts of her dress where it contacted the fabric.

Overcome by love and need for this woman, I took her in my arms and kissed her. Our tongues were in each other's mouths for a few minutes.

I gathered up the camera equipment and we walked back through the park to the car. It was nearly dark by the time we got to it. We had little to say to each other. The events of the evening had said all that needed to be said.

It was a struggle to concentrate on driving the way back home. I think I almost caused an accident, once or twice. All I could think about was the amazing fucking awesomeness of my wife and her pussy gushing all over the park bench.

But eventually I pulled into the driveway of our house, and we both staggered inside. Lissa said she was exhausted and had to go to bed. I said I'd be there before too long. I wasn't quite ready for sleep. I had some photos to process.

* * * *

Nude Day, July 14, came at last. Lissa and I stood together sipping coffee in the kitchen, early morning. We both wore gym shorts and t-shirts. The cotton of her t-shirt did nothing to conceal the unfettered sway of her breasts and the hard points of her nipples. I felt that familiar tingle and hardening between my legs.

"Oh God," I thought to myself. "Not yet. I can't stand it. Let me finish my coffee."

My wife drove me crazy: absolutely, 100% insane with lust. I guess that was a good thing for a marriage, right?

I snuck glances at her when she turned away from me in the kitchen -- refilling her coffee cup, scooping up bacon from the frying pan. Her butt wiggled. Her shoulders swayed. She was being subtle about it, but I could tell that she knew what she was doing and wanted me to look at her. And look, I did.

"You like?" she asked, and she wiggled her butt some more.

"You have no idea," I said.

"I like the way you like at me," she said. "Hey, do you know what today is?"

I knew, but we hadn't talked about it, and I didn't want to let on.

"Uh, what?" I asked.

"It's Nude Day."

"Oh yeah?" I asked. "What does that mean?"

"I have a surprise for you," Lissa said.

"What is it?" I was intrigued. I had no idea she even knew what Nude Day was, let alone that she was thinking of doing something for it.

"I'm not going to tell you yet. It's a surprise. I'll tell you later. You'll like it, I think."

My curiosity was at a feverish pitch. I couldn't imagine what she meant or what she had planned. But she wouldn't say anything more. She finished her coffee and refused to tell me what her Nude Day plans were.

Eventually, both of us finished our breakfast and got dressed and Lissa took Luke to his friend's house, where he would spend the night. While she was busy, I retreated to my office. I knew the Nude Day photo winners would be announced and I wanted to see how I had done.

I logged on to the Site and scrolled to the page where the winners were announced.

We had won. First place. I couldn't believe it.

Ten photos of my hot, naked wife had captivated the Site membership and they had voted her the number one contestant. Hundreds -- I mean, literally hundreds -- of comments poured into my inbox praising the amazing sexiness of my naked, spread-open wife.

There were ten photos of her, all viewable on one page of the Site.

I scrolled down the page and viewed the photos. The first few were full body shots, on the bench. The womanly curves of her body were accented by the early evening light. Her legs were open, and you could see her pussy, but not up close. The purpose of these photos was to establish that she was completely naked, outdoors, in a place where a person wasn't supposed to be naked. Her body looked amazing.

The next few photos showed her pussy up close. The detail was amazing. All the waves and dimples and curves of her inner and outer labia were in view. In the shots where they were held back by her fingers the wet pink flesh inside her gleamed in the late afternoon sun. It was obvious I'd timed the shoot perfectly.

But it was the last few photos that sealed the contest win. The slender pink vibrator plunged into her pussy, and the vibrator plainly was coated in a thick film of her juices. The last photo showed my beautiful wife with legs apart and a thin squirt stream arcing away from her.

I could barely resist jerking myself off right then and there. I turned around to confirm that the door of my office was closed, and I started to unzip my fly. I stopped when a message came in.

It was MissAngela.

MissAngela: "Congratulations on your win."

Me: "Thanks! What do you think of the photos?"

MissAngela: "They're good. You're a talented photographer."

Me: "Thanks, again. I work with a great model."

MissAngela: "I'm sure she'd appreciate you saying that."

Me: "You think so?"

MissAngela: "I know so."

I was puzzled.

MissAngela: "I think it's time for your Nude Day surprise."

Now I was really puzzled. She sounded like my wife. Then a tremor shook my body.

Me: "What do you mean?"

MissAngela: "Check out my latest photo."

My fingers trembled as I navigated away from the chat window to MissAngela's photo window. It took a second or two to load and display the photo, but when it did . . .

A photo of Lissa emerged. Lissa, and Megan, and MissAngela -- all the same person. She was fully naked, on the floor of her home office, legs splayed to either side, her pussy fully on display. Her face was revealed, and she smiled, and she carried a sign.

It read: "I'm Prospero's wife. Surprise. Happy Nude Day."

I wasn't surprised. I was shocked. I think I sat immobile in the chair for two minutes or more, with my jaw having dropped somewhere to my chest. I was roused from paralysis by the front door of the house opening. Another minute passed, and then I heard a knock at the office door behind me and the sound of the knob turning.

I turned to the door, and Lissa entered my office.

She was stark naked.

Her breasts pushed out saucily toward me and her hips tilted one way, and I don't think I'd ever seen a woman look so sexy and so perfect.

"Surprise," she said, in a soft voice. "Happy Nude Day."

"I . . . I . . . I don't know what to say."

"You posted nude photos of me on the Internet. You might say something about that."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"It's OK. I egged you on, after I found out."

My mind still reeled.

"How'd you know?" I asked.

"Matt, I've known for a long time that you visited that Site. When you started taking all those photos of me, I wondered. So, I went on to the Site and I saw what you'd posted. I was shocked that you did that."

"I'm sorry, Lissa." I hung my head.

"I was shocked," she continued. "But I was turned on, too. It was . . . fun, to see myself that way, the way you saw me, the way you wanted other men to see me. And it was a turn on to read all the comments about me. You've made me quite a celebrity at that Site."

"You don't hate me?" I asked, fearful of her answer.

"No, I don't hate you," she said, and she took my face in her hands. "I love you, you pervert. But don't ever do anything like that again without asking me."

She sat in my lap, naked, and our hands ran all over each other and we kissed each other. She pulled back.

"You showed your face in the photo today," I said. "Aren't you worried?"

"Not really," she said. "I own my own business. Nobody can fire me. I doubt my clients will see the photos, or that they'll care if they do. If a friend sees the photos and doesn't want to talk to me anymore, screw 'em."

"Wow, Lissa," I said. My hot, loving wife left me dumbstruck.

"I am disappointed in you about something, however," she said.

"What about?" I was puzzled.

"You're a wonderful writer. It's part of what attracted me to you when we met. I've always loved your way with words. But this time you were dumb."

"How do you mean?"

She looked at me like I was a child.

"MissAngela?"

I shook my head.

"I don't get it."

"You silly boy. It's an anagram. MissAngela. Lissa. Megan."

I hit my forehead. What an idiot I was.

"It's OK," Lissa said. "You're an idiot and a pervert, but you sure do like me, and I like that. You're a sweet, loving pervert."

I couldn't believe it. My wife knew, and she had known for days, and she had gone along with it.

"So, what now?" I asked.

Lissa stood up, off my lap. She walked to the closet at the side wall in the office, opened it, and pulled some things out: a video camera and a tripod. She traipsed back to me across the office floor, and her breasts jiggled deliciously. She pursed her lips and gave me an air kiss. Her eyes gleamed with devilish glee when she next spoke.

"Let's make some porn.

THE END.