I had heard from some friends about a photographer who took glamour pictures—risqué but not porn, if you get my drift. My lady friends told me that when they gave these pictures to their husbands, the men acted like teenagers. I decided it would be fun to see Paul’s reaction if I had a set made. Before I go too deep into this, I should tell you that Paul is my second husband, the love of my life, and we’ve lived a free-spirited lifestyle since before we married.

Back to the story. I got the phone number from a friend and called to set up the shoot. When he answered, his deep voice intrigued me, to say the least. I told him I had heard he did glamour shots and was looking to have a set done. I heard him going through some papers, and he said he had an opening in four days, with the next available in three weeks. I immediately thought he was very popular and took the first available appointment. We discussed outfits, and he more or less told me to think sexy, sweet, or slutty—and to bring whatever would feel good. I was set to meet him in four days. I was so excited thinking about pictures of me, all sexy and just for Paul.

It was the day of the shoot, and I was all a jitter. The appointment was for two in the afternoon, and it was expected to last between 2 and 4 hours, depending on how many outfits I had taken and how the shoot was going. Keeping this secret from Paul had been simple, and I told him I was meeting friends for an afternoon of shopping and then a dinner, so he was on his own today.

I arrived a few minutes before two, picked up my bags, and walked into the studio. As I entered, I was struck by how handsome my photographer was, and now I understood why he was so popular. He stepped forward, and rather than a handshake, he just gave me a wonderful hug and said he was so happy I had arrived and was excited to see what magic we could create for the pictures.

He led me into the studio, showing me the layout—chairs, sofas, beds, and carpets. Then he showed me to the changing room, which was more than just a room with a chair and hooks; it had a sofa, a chair, a locker for my belongings, a lighted vanity for me to apply my makeup, plus a queen-sized bed, which I assumed was for relaxing if the photoshoot became too intense.

As you can probably tell, the entire atmosphere made my body tingle, and I was pretty sure I wouldn’t need any ice cubes to make my nipples stand up and harden.

He asked me to change for the first photo series and suggested we should work up to the glamour shots, perhaps starting with something quite calm.

That’s exactly what I did; he took pictures, and then I went and changed again, more pictures, more of the same, time after time. I know it sounds mind-numbing, but each time I came out of the changing room, he made little sounds like my goodness, or you look awesome.

Of course, each change got a little closer to a glamour shot. I had originally changed into holdups, so there was not going to be any pantyhose, but I still had on a bra and panties underneath whatever outfit I might be in.

The things changed as my outfit became more revealing. When I walked out in a bra, panties, hold-ups, and heels, he said, “Damn, it’s gotten hot in here.” He took off his shirt, and OMG, the chest was awesome and smooth with no hair, and I swear he had a thin layer of oil on it, making it look like something from a magazine.

Things certainly had heated up to the next level. I thought my nipples were as hard as they could get, but no, now they were showing through my bra, and I was feeling damp between my legs.

He began taking pictures, taking many close-ups now with only lingerie on, but I couldn’t stand it, and I asked if he thought it would be okay for me to remove my bra. His answer was, “Here, let me help.”

He moved me over to a chair with a white fur blanket on it and told me to relax and enjoy. I did, but my attention was not so much on the camera any longer; it was on the growing bulge in his pants. I know you won’t believe me, but it had to have been eight inches.

At this point, all modesty went out the window, and I started giving him hints that I wanted more than just photos. I guess he got the hint after I started playing with my breast because he excused himself and returned a minute later wearing only a thong. I might add a very full thong.

He laid the camera down and dropped down and slowly spread my legs. His tongue darted out and dragged across my panties. I could feel him, but I needed more. My panties had to go, but I couldn’t do it with him there, so I begged him, “Take them off me, fuck me with that tongue.”

He surprised me by taking out a knife and cutting them off me. That had never happened to me before, and it got me even more excited. I was his to take wherever he wanted because he was all man and had control.

I wrapped my legs around his shoulders and pulled his face deep into my pussy. He was licking, and I was humping into his face, feeling myself edging closer and closer to my first orgasm. I orgasmed so hard, I screamed. He didn’t stop; he just kept that tongue inside me, and his nose was rubbing my clit so naturally that I had an immediate second.

My hand was now pulling his hair, and I thought I was about to smother him, but I finally relaxed. He stood, and I saw that his cock was now standing tall and the head was on total display, having shot through the top of his thong.

On seeing this, I became a wanton slut; I asked him for his knife and cut the sides of the thong so it fell off, and there in all its glory was an 8-inch-thick cock dripping precum. I did what any natural slut would do: I took that head in my mouth and went down as far as I could, then sucked my way back up. I was gratified to hear him moaning as I did. His cock felt so good in my mouth, and I had one hand stroking and the other was playing with his shaved balls.

I felt him begin to push deeper into my mouth, and I knew he was about to cum, and I was so ready to swallow all of it. It began with a low growl, which led to a roar as his hands held my head, pulling it down onto his cock, and he began shooting so much that it gushed out the corners of my mouth.

The touching, licking, and sucking continued for another hour as we relaxed with one another. He finally looked at me and said, “We need to finish this shoot. I think we should give your husband something special: just you, a garter, stockings, and heels. I will be waiting for you just like I am.”

I went into the changing room and got ready. I walked out and lay on the bed, spread my legs, and pushed one up in the air so my pussy was open, a pure sexy porn picture if there ever was one. But the picture doesn’t tell you that I was spreading my legs for his big, hard cock, not showing it off for a picture.

We fucked off and on for two hours, and I had multiple orgasms. I must say it was some of the best I have ever had.

As I got dressed and packed my outfits away, I happened to look and saw it was 9 o’clock. I’d been here over 7 hours, and I was sure Paul was having a fit. I called him and told him I was okay and would be home shortly, and did I have a story for him.

When I got home, I told Paul everything except that it was all about getting glamour pictures for him. He was relieved that I was home safe and that I seemed so happy. Of course, after he heard of the wild time I had, he had me strip in the kitchen. Running his hand over my pussy, he could tell I was still carrying some of my photographer's semen. He led me to the bedroom, and the first thing he did was lick me clean.