We never made it to the bedroom. By the time we got to the stairs I had to find out how her smooth sex would feel against my lips, so with her skirt hiked up and me kneeling three steps below her I did. She sat on the edge of the landing, leaning back slightly, one hand behind her and legs spread as I kissed my way up her thighs, playing slightly, teasing, but far too eager to dawdle. When my lips met hers she gasped, and tangled her fingers in my hair so that she could feel me moving as I tongued her.

I’d never before had the pleasure of performing oral sex on a sweet, wet pussy so perfectly smooth, and while it was no better and no worse than what she’d felt like yesterday it was new and different, and very exciting for me. There was a unique erotic charge to it somehow, despite the fact that it was still my Allison and she still tasted the same, it was still her intoxicatingly sexy scent, still the same little hard clit that I’d spent so many happy moments enjoying over the years, and her sounds and reactions were the same. This was not a new lover, although in some ways it seemed that different; maybe it was the things she’d revealed to me about her past and her true nature more than it was her smooth sex. Whatever the reason, I was ragingly hard and leaking profusely as I brought her to the first of several orgasms with my lips and tongue.

I don’t know how long I focused my attention on her, or how many times she came, but I was aware of the feel of her fingers in my hair going from stroking to grasping, and of her pulling me forward in that way, grinding herself against my lips as her body finally exploded into a massive, shattering orgasm. Her juices filled my mouth as I pressed into her and she cried out, my tongue crushing her clit, and when it ended she went totally limp, only an occasional shudder passing through her.

I was so horny by then, so desperate for release that I stood and stepped up, straddling her, quickly unzipping and freeing my cock from my pants as I did. I was rigid and slick with pre-cum, the head of my penis and much of the shaft glistening wetly. I aligned myself with her face, and she took me into her warm and willing mouth, and I came.

It took seconds – if that - for me to begin emptying every bit of my pent-up arousal into her mouth, and the suddenness and intensity of it took us both by surprise. I gushed – for lack of a better word – filling her mouth to overflowing, still spurting as she allowed me to slip from her lips so that she could swallow. I painted her lips, cheek, and chin with cum, and sprayed a fair bit onto her neck and her lovely dress as well.

When I finally ran dry, my body drained, I sank down onto the landing next to her. I was exhausted suddenly, and my legs were quivering, too weak to hold me. I slowly stroked her arm, and she turned to look at me, a strand of my semen suspending from her chin. “Wow! I’m going to say that the wax job gets your seal of approval. You nearly drowned me!”

I laughed weakly. “Yeah, sorry about that. And the wax… yeah, that was pretty hot. Just really arousing for me, so erotic.” I paused to touch her again, and she leaned over so that we could share a cum-slick kiss, her lips slick with me and the slightly musky taste of me on her tongue. “Damn, that was… incredible. I almost came in my pants; that was just in the nick of time. I’m not sure why that worked on me the way it did, but there’s no denying the results!”

She giggled softly. “I’ll say! Forget premature ejaculation - that was almost a spontaneous, hands-free one. I love that you were so turned on, that’s very exciting for me to know.”

“No denying that, is there? Sorry about the mess.”

“I’m not. I clean up easy, and that’s why we have dry cleaners. Look at your pants.”

I did; there was a silver dollar-sized wet spot a few inches down my right thigh where I’d leaked while enjoying her, and my nearly-flaccid cock was now leaving a series of snail tracks on the gray worsted of my suit pants. “I can drop them off when I drop your dress there. Do you suppose that a cleaner ever gets tired of dealing with cum stains on things?”

“I’m sure they’re used to it. A cleaners is sort of like your trash service, really; they know more about you and your personal life than your family and closest friends do… whether they want to or not.”

I chuckled. “I hate to even think about that. Kind of embarrassing, really, but I can’t very well just burn my pants every time I get a spot on them.”

“You? Oh, hell no! You’d be out of clothes in no time! The way you leak so appreciatively…?”

“Okay, funny girl – your fault, you know.” I rose tiredly to my feet and held out my hands to her. ‘Come on, let’s get cleaned up and have some dinner. I need to rebuild my strength, because I really want to see how my cock looks sliding into that little naked pussy of yours.”

“Mmm, good – me too. Can’t wait!” She took my hands and I pulled her to her feet.

“Sorry, but you’ll have to. Biology dictates.” She came into my arms and we kissed again. I tasted myself on her lips still, and was very aware of the slippery texture of semen. I was also aware of the soft fabric of her dress against my dangling but still sensitive cock, happily unconcerned about the fact that I was undoubtedly leaving new tracks on it as well; after all, that ship had sailed!

We went up to our room and got cleaned up and changed before going down and finishing up preparing dinner. I opened a bottle of Chardonnay to enjoy while we waited for the chicken to finish cooking, and we polished it off over the meal. Later, after we’d relaxed and enjoyed our time together with Ruby, we made love, and the sight of my cock slipping into her smooth lips was every bit as exciting and erotic as we’d thought it would be.

Sadly, I again didn’t last terribly long, although much longer than earlier. Fortunately she was as aroused as I was and reached her orgasms just as quickly, and at the ultimate moment we came within seconds of each other… her first, but still in the midst of it when I joined her.

After, as we lay quietly luxuriating in the sense of peace, love, and satiation, she voiced the thing I had been carefully avoiding all night. “Tomorrow is the lingerie shoot. I’ll need to get up early to run by the shelter and still get there on time, so is it okay if I join you in the shower?”

“Sure – and since when have you had to ask about that?”

She snuggled against me. “I know, but I thought I’d ask anyway.” She hesitated for a moment, and then went on, “You’re okay with me doing that, right? The lingerie shoot? I know you weren’t real crazy about the idea at first…”

“Babe, I’m still not crazy about it, but I am okay with it. I understand that it’s something you want to do, and it’s not for me to tell you what you can or can’t do. Within certain limits, of course – but you have those same limitations on me. It’s just pictures, right?”

“Yes, of course. But I know you weren’t comfortable with it being just me, with none of the other models present. Jennifer will be there, you know.”

I hugged her. “Didn’t know, but kind of assumed. Thanks for telling me though. I’m just being a jealous fool, I know – and I totally trust you – but you have to admit that the situation is a little odd. You in sexy lingerie, some other guy telling you exactly what he wants you to do for him…”

She laughed. “You make it sound like so much more fun than it will be! It is just pictures, silly, and I’ll be working. We all three will. I promise.”

“Yeah, logically I know that. It’s all the strange little mental images that keep creeping in that are screwing with my mind.”

She lay silently against me for awhile, apparently turning that statement over in her head, because when she spoke, she said, “And do those mental images make you horny? Do you get all hard and aroused by what your imagination comes up with?”

I sighed. “You already know they do; they shouldn’t, I don’t think, but they do. And that’s another weird thing to gnaw at me… just what I needed.”

“Oh, stop! It’s okay that you get aroused thinking of me; actually, I’m really glad that you do. If those fantasies work in your imagination, why not just enjoy it?”

“Mmm, I suppose. Your attitude toward sex and arousal is entirely too healthy – you know that, right?”

She giggled. “It’s just good clean fun, right? Might as well enjoy it while we can.”

“See? There you go again, making far too much sense. Can’t even enjoy my own neuroses around you, can I?” I loved the way her body felt against me, so very warm and soft, the scent of her and of sex in the air and the taste of her still on my tongue. We drifted then, and eventually slept, although I woke up a few times during the night, each time a new image of her posing naked for Derek in my mind.

It left me hard and perspiring each time, and toward morning I pulled her to me and took her again, unable to stand the near-constant arousal and tormenting images. When I entered her from behind she groaned sleepily at first, but soon responded willingly and eagerly, meeting my touch and then my thrusts as we coupled. She was liquid heat, her own arousal and my final ejaculate of a few hours earlier making her slick and ready, and her velvety wetness bathed my aching cock in welcoming warmth.

We made love, both of us hot and sweaty and deeply aroused, and it went on and on, our bodies moving as one, moving in that way that only two people who are intimately familiar with each other can accomplish. We touched and kissed, whispered and sighed, moaned and cried out with the things we were doing to each other, the sensations we created.

With my achingly aroused cock inside of her and the fingers of one hand at her smooth, wet sex, I gave her orgasms that were small but numerous, and clearly appreciated. When mine hit it was a long, slow surge, as if her body was pulling the sensations from throughout my own, into my lower abdomen, and then out through my hard cock in an intensely pleasurable rush.

My muscles locked and my body rigid, I held myself deep inside of her as I felt that rush leave my body and flood into hers; despite the fact that it was my third orgasm in the last several hours I overflowed her, my constant arousal during the night apparently leaving my reserves replenished. I felt the thick leakage of my own cum on my scrotum and thigh, and on my fingers, where I used it to further slicken her clit as I fingered her to one last shuddering orgasm.

After, when my depleted cock slipped out of her, we fell asleep in that same position, her cum-slick ass nestled into my groin. It was only for perhaps an hour or so, but it was the best sleep I’d gotten all night and I woke up feeling more refreshed than I had any right to be. She joined me in the shower, as we’d discussed, something that’s usually a delightful experience now turned into a reminder of how she was planning to spend part of her day.

We talked and touched and washed each other’s backs, and with her wet, soapy body rubbing against me I grew hard, but we didn’t make love. Instead, as we played and made small talk, I had images of her dressed in very little, posing for Derek, eager to behave uncharacteristically submissively and do his bidding. It disturbs me to think it, but the truth is that those thoughts and images contributed to my arousal almost as much as the presence of her slippery, luscious body did; it had been true throughout the night, and so there was no way I could deny it in the light of day.

Perhaps put in a certain frame of mind by the knowledge that she was going to be modeling sexy lingerie that day, she dressed in some of her sexiest things to begin with; tiny white lace panties with transparent front and rear panels and a white demi-bra that displayed the upper curve of her breasts to fine advantage. Over those she wore a long-sleeved white sweater which buttoned up the front and was made of a soft, thin, shimmering knit that clung to her figure, and a charcoal gray A-line skirt that ended just above her knees.

If you weren’t aware of the undergarments there was nothing blatantly sexual about her appearance other than a bit of a schoolgirl look; of course, I was very aware of those sexy bits, and I assumed that he would be eventually as well. She left her hair loose around her face, her soft waves shimmering, explaining that she didn’t want to leave any marks or crimps in it by using bands or clips; her assumption was that it would be styled in whatever way he demanded when she arrived at the studio.

We ate a few bites together before we left, our attempts at conversation or banter feeling uncharacteristically strained and awkward, and then departed at the same time. About the only thing that hadn’t felt strained all morning was our interaction with Ruby, who, unaware of the tension, was her usual jovial self. I was tempted to take her with me to the office as a sort of security blanket, but not knowing for sure what demands the day’s business might bring I resisted the urge and gave her some love before locking up behind me.

Allison was backing her tiny Pontiac out of the drive as I walked into the garage, and she gave me a wave before turning and heading down the street. I headed for work, feeling a dark cloud above my head; it took me all of two miles before I realized that the cloud was partially due to the fact that Alli and I had not kissed each other goodbye. Even when she was still in bed when I leave, sleeping, we usually managed at least one small kiss.

I know I was a bear all day at the office; couldn’t seem to help it. People started avoiding me early on, and even Marci tiptoed around me until mid-afternoon, when Louis walked into my office and closed the door behind him.

“Dave,” he nodded at me, “you alright today? You don’t seem your usual jovial self.” He took a seat in front of my desk, facing me across the somewhat cluttered surface; I had more things on my desk at that moment than Louis would have allowed to cross the surface of his in a month.

I smiled weakly, not at all alright, truth be told. “I’m fine, Louis; thanks for asking. I’m just a little out of sorts, I guess.”

“Anything I can help with?”

I shook my head slowly. “I don’t see how, no. I appreciate the thought though.”

He continued to regard me seriously for several seconds before speaking. “Marci told me about Allison and her modeling job today; if it means anything, I think you’re tying yourself in knots over nothing.”

It didn’t surprise me terribly that Marci had remembered Alli’s lingerie shoot that day, or that she’d figured out that it was the burr under my saddle; it did surprise me a bit that she’d spoken to Louis about it. “No, it’s probably nothing, but there’s something about it – about this guy – that bugs me.”

He picked up Alli’s framed glamour shot from my desk and looked at it yet again. “He is an excellent photographer.”

I shrugged. “Not denying that, Louis. He’s very good, no question; unfortunately, he also appears to be very good at talking my wife into doing pretty much anything he wants her to do.”

He looked at me sharply. “Do you have any reason to believe there’s something going on between them – something more than photography?”

I shook my head, shrugging again. “No, not really. It’s just a sixth sense sort of a thing, a warning tingle deep in my gut. I trust Allison, but he gives me a bad vibe – and I’ve never even met or spoken to the man.” I went on to tell him about the various photos he’d taken of her, some of which Louis had seen and others he had not, and about the odd submissive posture that Alli seemed to adopt around this Derek Chambers. Louis looked intrigued by that, and by the fact that Allison seemed utterly unaware that she was doing it, or what it might signify.

I tried to express my concerns without seeming like a jealous husband or a raging paranoid, but I’m not entirely sure I was able to pull it off. When I was finished speaking, he again looked at me steadily for a long moment in that serious way he has. “You know, all of the catalogs and magazine ads, newspapers, television, all these women in sexy lingerie strutting it around in front of cameras in the name of commerce – do you suppose all of their husbands and boyfriends feel the same way you do?”

I looked at him for a second, and then laughed. “Is that your way of telling me that I’m being an idiot?”

He chuckled, straightening his tie and shooting his cuffs before responding. “No, not at all! Would I do that to a friend in need?” We both laughed at the sarcasm apparent in his question.

“Look, Louis, I know I’m probably over-reacting, and that Alli is strong and far too bright to fall for anything this guy might try to pull. I just can’t ignore the bad feeling I get here, can’t turn off the alarm bells.”

He looked at me for a moment, his expression thoughtful, contemplative. He nodded, apparently reaching a decision of some sort. “David, perhaps I’m not the best person to give you any advice on this; Elaine cheated on me.”

That unexpected revelation caused me to lean back in my chair in disbelief, and I know I stared at him. “Elaine? Louis, that’s tough to believe. Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Oh yes, quite. I’ve never talked of this with anyone before, so I’ll trust in your discretion, but yes; I walked in on them in our bed when I arrived home early and unexpectedly one day.”

I winced inwardly at that visual; it would be difficult to imagine a more painful and heart-wrenching – not to mention volatile – moment than that. “God. Louis, I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged. “Thank you. It was a very long time ago, before our children were born. It took some time – we separated for awhile, before we realized how much we still loved each other – and we went through months of couples counseling, but we pulled through.” He paused for a moment as he picked at some imaginary lint on his slacks. “The point is, I was so busy with work, with getting my brokerage up and running, that I was absent from our marriage. I never saw it coming. You and Allison are not in that type of relationship, are you?”

“No. No, I think our relationship is strong and good, loving… we enjoy spending time together. Did Elaine ever explain, offer any reasons for behaving that way, for…”

“Cuckolding me? Yes, she did. He was there; it was as simple as that. Their affair had been ongoing for just over two months when I discovered them. He was a neighbor; two houses down the street, a divorced bachelor ten years our senior. A large, gregarious man. He paid attention to her, listened, flattered her. All the things I wasn’t doing because I was so busy and preoccupied.”

I was still stunned, trying to accept what he was telling me, not quite able to get past my astonishment that, first, Louis was opening up to me about something so very personal, and second, that they had somehow come through it with their marriage intact. “Can I ask what you did – you know, when you caught them in the act?”

He sighed. “I froze, for a moment. Elaine was on her hands and knees and he was behind her – and I was behind them. There’s this moment of utter disbelief, an instant when your mind tells itself that you’re not seeing what you’re seeing, and then the realization that I can’t see the woman’s face and the tiny hope that perhaps it wasn’t my wife… but that was foolish, of course; who else could it possibly be, in my home, in my bed?”

“Shit, Louis…”

“I screamed at them as I grabbed my gun; back then, before the children, I used to keep a Sig nine in my dresser drawer. It’s now in a safe with a thumbprint lock, of course. It was just my reaction to reach for my weapon, anger, hurt, maybe fear – this was not a small man, you understand, and I’m not a large, powerful fellow.”

I sat there silently, in shock, aching for my friend. I knew that Louis was a marksman of some note, and had won numerous awards in both rifle and pistol competitions. It wasn’t something he would expound on at any length, but he had a couple of small, unobtrusive trophies in his office, and we had talked about it. The fact that he owned guns and was entirely comfortable and proficient with them did not come as a surprise.

He continued: “It was horrible, a scene seared in my mind, him climbing off of her, naked, his huge cock hard and swollen, wet with my wife’s secretions…” he shook his head, as if to chase away the image. “Elaine, naked, aroused, her skin flushed, screaming at me not to shoot, crying, begging me… I didn’t shoot him, of course, but I did walk him out of my house at gunpoint and down to the end of the driveway, carrying his clothes, before I kicked him in the ass and told him if I ever saw him near my wife again he was a dead man.”

I let out a pent-up breath. “Well… good for you. I woulda shot the bastard.”

He looked at me, raising his eyebrows. “No, you wouldn’t have. You’re much too good of a man for that, and your mind would be telling you that something like that would only unleash more hell into your life.”

“Maybe. I hope you’re right. So you and Elaine…?”

He sighed again, squaring his small shoulders and gathering himself. “We’re okay. But the thing was, he was there, filling some emotional need for her when I was preoccupied with my work. She assured me it wasn’t anything physical, despite the fact that he as a much larger man – and, as I was so unfortunate to see, quite generously endowed, something which I am not.”

“Ummm…”

He laughed. “Too much information? Yes, I suppose it is.” He shook his head, chuckling; I was amazed at his resiliency, that he could find humor in any of this. “We have these hang-ups, we men do, that our woman is going to seek out another man that is bigger, stronger, more well-endowed - a superior physical specimen – perhaps because we are sometimes that shallow ourselves, and it preys on our insecurities. It certainly did for me, for a time.”

He paused, and when I sat silently, not knowing what to say, he finished his thought. “But no, Elaine made me see that was not the case, at least not for her; it was just that he was there to listen to her, to pay attention, to hold her. He was there for her, and even if it was just a cynical ploy on his part to get in her pants, he was there when I was not. You’re not making that mistake with Allison. I think you’ll be fine, Dave.”

He rose to his feet and turned to leave. I stood as well, and reached out to shake his hand. “Louis, thanks for that – and for your trust. I’m not entirely sure that telling me your wife had an affair when I’m worrying about the very same thing is the best approach, but I do understand what you’re saying. Thank you.”

He smiled. “I suppose that’s true – sorry, my friend, it was meant to reassure you; your situation is nothing like mine was.

You two are so very close, so in love and in tune with each other. I envy you that; I wish I’d been more like that early in our marriage, and perhaps none of this would have happened.”

I walked him to the door of my office. “Well, you somehow survived; you love each other very much, that’s clear, and you have two great kids. That’s what matters.”

He paused with his hand on the door knob. “Yes, it is – and we do love each other. It took time, David, and a lot of work, but we made it. I was able to forgive her for what she did, but…” he frowned, and then sighed, “I was never able to forget, nor will I be. I’ll carry that memory and that image to my grave, David; don’t let that happen to you, my friend.”

“No, I don’t intend to. Thanks again Louis, I appreciate your concern, and I’m sorry you went through that.” I shook his hand again at the door, and clapped him on the shoulder, each of us holding the other’s hand for a moment longer than necessary in silent communication of our feelings for each other.

After he’d left I sat at my desk for a long time, my mind running over the things he’d said, mental images flashing through my head. I could only imagine the shock and pain he must have felt at that terrible moment, and could still not quite wrap my mind around shy, quiet, tiny little Elaine hopping in the sack with some big, well-hung stud. It just didn’t fit, so ingrained was the image of the perfect couple that she and Louis seemed to be.

Realizing that I was accomplishing nothing, either in my thought processes or in terms of work productivity, I brought up my calendar on the screen to check for deadlines or appointments for that afternoon. Seeing nothing that was pressing, I decided to call it a day. Leaving a few hours early was not something I’d ever done very much, although lately it seemed to be happening more frequently; I silently resolved to examine that phenomenon in more depth at a later date.

I was slipping my arms into the sleeves of my jacket when Marci tapped at my door and peered around the corner. Her eyebrows rose as she took in the sight of me donning my jacket. “Are you leaving us?”

I smiled at her. “Yeah, I think so. I realized that I wasn’t doing anything here but burning oxygen, and I can do that anywhere.”

She grinned. “You have been pretty useless today.”

“Thank you! Good to know I can count on you to lift my spirits.”

She giggled, but then became serious. “Today was Allison’s first lingerie shoot, wasn’t it?”

I nodded, watching her. “Yeah, it was – or is, I suppose; it’s probably still ongoing.”

“Is that why you’ve been such a total putz all day?”

“Have we ever had the discussion about things you should or should not say to your superiors?”

She waved it off. “Oh yeah, many times – it seems to be one of your favorite speeches. Good thing I’m so very adept at ignoring you, huh?”

I laughed. “Yes, that is a good thing. Do you have a point here, or may I leave now?”

“My point, since you’re in such a big hurry that you’re being rude, is that you can be a total idiot.”

“Again, about things you probably shouldn’t say…”

She merely laughed. “You know I mean it in the nicest way! But you are – about Allison, anyway.”

“Yeah, maybe. And you’re not the only one that holds that opinion, by the way. Thanks for siccing Louis on me, Marce. Truly appreciate it.”

To my amazement, she actually managed to appear contrite. “Sorry, but you needed to hear it from someone you’ll take seriously. Was he his usual erudite self?”

I laughed. “Listen to you with the fancy words! Yeah, he’s good; he has a way of getting you to focus and see things from outside of yourself. He actually made me feel better… at least a little.” I paused and we looked at each other for a moment; Marci works for me, yes, but she’s become so much more than an employee. We spend so much time together that we’ve come to know each other very well, and are able to read each other’s moods and feelings. It’s a good relationship, and we both value what it’s become.

“Marce, I’m going to take off a little early. You can too, if you want. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Can I buy you a drink, sailor?” She started shutting things down in preparation for leaving.

“Thanks, but no; I think I’m going to head home and see how Alli’s day went. I’ll take a rain check though.” I turned and started toward the door. “Have a good evening, and tell Michael hey for me.”

I left, and all the way home I mulled over what Louis had told me. It made sense, that Elaine might have found some sort of emotional support in the arms of another man, although it was still almost impossible for me to believe it of the Elaine I knew. It just seemed so horribly out of character, and it gave me a chill to realize that if it could happen to them, it could happen to anyone.

Accordingly, it was with those thoughts in my mind that I pulled up in front of our house and saw a deep burgundy-colored SUV in my driveway, a large, very expensive, and gleaming Mercedes GL450. I didn’t think much of it at first, other than mild curiosity, until I stepped out of my car and could see the nearly-invisible black printing, which was painted on the dark-burgundy background in fancy script:

Chambers Photography

Professional Studio Photography

Portrait●Commercial●Event 

 


My heart skipped a beat… or possibly several. I went the last few steps into the house almost at a sprint, horrific visions inspired by Louis’s story running through my mind like jerky, static-filled images from an old eight-millimeter stag film. Ruby had come to meet me, of course, and I got tangled with her for a moment just inside the door. We managed to get separated without either of us falling, and, being the empathic creature she is, she quickly got out of my way.

I strode quickly past the entry and was headed for the stairs up to our bedroom, loaded for bear, when out of the corner of my eye I saw them. They were on the sofa in the living room, doing… nothing. Sitting, talking, he with a steaming mug of coffee in his hand and Alli with a Pepsi, about three feet apart but each turned slightly toward the other. Talking. Just talking. Fully-dressed and everything.

I felt like an utter fool, and Allison was looking at me wide-eyed and startled, at this raging lunatic that had just burst into her house. “Honey! You’re home early; is everything okay?”

I willed my pounding heart to slow, to settle into something resembling a natural rhythm. “Uh, yeah, fine. Everything is fine; I just wrapped up a little early and decided to come home. Got a little tangled up with Ruby, coming in the door – you know how she is.” One fringe benefit of dog ownership is a ready scapegoat for when you do something stupid, such as crashing through the door fearing you’re going to catch your wife in flagrante delicto.

Alli, still looking at me oddly, had not made the introductions. I decided to take the initiative - seize the higher ground, as it were - and stepped toward him, holding out my hand. “Hi, David Baxter – Dave - Allison’s husband, and you must be Derek Chambers. Good to meet you.”

He switched his coffee mug from his right hand to his left as he rose to greet me, and we shook hands. There was a little bit of the firm-grip challenge, each of us squeezing hard enough to let the other know that there was no submissive, beta-male in the room. That formality out of the way, and the surge of adrenalin and testosterone slowly receding from my veins, I began to put a face to the phantom that had been preying on my mind.

He was much as Alli had described him, almost an older version of me; close to my height, perhaps an inch shorter; similar build and weight, similar coloring. His hair was a much darker brown than my own, almost black, but peppered with spots and streaks of gray, especially along the sides. Pleasant face – handsome, I suppose – and straight white teeth that showed when he smiled. His eyes were probably his most noticeable feature, a brilliant blue beneath his dark hair, very different from my own hazel color.

As he again took his seat, I settled into the armchair opposite them, across the coffee table which stood in front of the sofa. For the first time I noticed several large books, expensively bound, either lying singly or stacked on that low surface. I was curious what that was about, as I recognized none of the volumes. I was about to find out.

Derek had been watching my face closely, perhaps trying to get a read on me; it’s a tactic that I use myself when meeting with someone for final contract negotiations, especially on big money deals. If you can get a sense of their mood – confidence, hesitancy, enthusiasm, excitement, perhaps fear – there is often a way to turn it to your advantage. I’d noticed it immediately and donned my best poker face.

He gave a small shrug and an equally small smile, realizing that he wasn’t going to get anything there. He spoke. “Dave – may I call you Dave?” I nodded, and he continued. “Call me Derek, please. I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here.”

I nodded again. “Yes, the thought had occurred.”

He smiled again, recognizing my reserved demeanor toward him. “Yes, I’m sure. Any man would wonder, coming home and finding his wife entertaining another man. First, let me assure you that my visit is purely for business and artistic reasons.” He looked at me for a moment and then at Allison, who had been watching me, perhaps gauging my reaction to her photographer friend. He reached out and touched her hand, where it rested on her leg. Actually, it was more like he stroked it rather than merely touching, an oddly intimate and sexual gesture considering that it was, after all, just the back of her hand.

I felt myself bristle as he went on. “I’ve made your wife a proposition, but she assures me that it’s not something that she can consider until she discusses it with you. I’m here to facilitate and perhaps lend clarity to that discussion.”

It occurred to me that Derek and Louis might be very happy talking to each other, as both seemed to favor a somewhat more formal and stilted manner of speaking than we mere mortals tend to use. I looked at him for a moment, not really grasping where he was going. “An, uh…a proposition? What kind of proposition?”

He smiled. “Purely a business proposition, I assure you, although I can well understand your trepidation,” he said, as he looked at Allison. “Your wife is very beautiful, and she photographs better still, a surprisingly rare thing.” Allison smiled at his compliment, blushing slightly. It was easy to see that his words affected her, that they meant something to her.

In a way, I liked his directness. We had dispensed with the small talk - inane comments about the weather and such - and moved right to the crux of the matter. In my experience that was a rare thing as well, and while I would have been fine observing the usual banalities in most situations, we were talking about my wife and the man she posed naked for – and, apparently, some mysterious new proposal.

I decided to meet his direct approach with my own. “Alli already models for you, everything from dresses and slack to undies and swimwear; what else is it you have in mind?”

He smiled. “Undies, yes… I hope that her beauty and my talent equate to people thinking of fine lingerie as something more than ‘undies’.” He waved a hand dismissively. “But no, that’s a commercial job, and the shots we can take are extremely restricted, bound by the needs of the client. What I’m talking about now is something…”

He paused for a moment, and I had the sense that he was choosing his words carefully, that he felt it very important that he make himself understood. He went on; “This is an idea that’s been kicking around in my mind for quite some time, a personal project I’ve wanted to do. The ideas have been slowly coming together, germinating, and waiting for the right catalyst – the right woman – to bring it all together. Dave, your wife is that woman. I want – no, I need her for this project, and I hope that I can have your blessing on it. She says that she won’t do it any other way.”

As he said that last part he looked at Alli, watching her, and my eyes naturally followed his. She’d been watching him speak, absorbing every word, but as he finished speaking her eyes swung to me, and then she quickly looked down toward the floor as her blush refreshed. Odd, to say the least.

I looked back at Derek again. “Okay, I get that you think Alli is the perfect person for this ‘project’ of yours, and I sure can’t fault your judgment there, but at what point do we hear about the project itself – or is that some kind of secret?”

He smiled again. “No, not a secret, of course not. What I would like to do is a book of erotic photography, something similar to these books you see on the table here between us. The difference between any of these books and my own is two-fold; first, mine will be better…”

I laughed softly, unable to suppress it. I hadn’t even looked at any of the books he’d brought, and had no idea of their relative merits, but his brash confidence that his own would be ‘better’… it just struck me as funny, and I laughed. That earned me a sharp look from him, and a disappointed one from Alli. I shrugged. “Hey, I’m sorry; I admire a man with confidence, but these are all obviously published works and what you have is still just an idea. You may well be right though; forgive me, and go on.”

He nodded, accepting my reason and my apology. “I’m confident it will be better, Dave, because I know my abilities and because of the subject and concept that I plan to use. It will be unique.” He paused for a moment and looked at Alli, who smiled softly, and then continued, “And that brings us to the second big difference between my concept and any of these others, which is that every photo in my book will feature one particular woman. And that woman, of course, is Allison; your wife, Dave, who will not help me with this project without your blessing.”

As he said that he reached out and took her hand in his. His hand slid under hers, their hands perpendicular to each other so that his fingers curled up over the heel of her hand as his thumb stroked the back of it. I was an oddly intimate gesture, and it told me that they were accustomed to him touching her, and quite comfortable with the idea – perhaps too comfortable.

That bothered me, and I think I may have frowned, but it was really no more intimate than a handshake – and besides, I had something else entirely on my mind. “Well, without going into it in any more depth, I can tell you that I’m not at all interested in Alli posing for any kind of a porn book. Fashion shots – even lingerie and swimwear – are one thing, but as far as using my wife for a book full of porn photos…”

He cut me off. “Erotic photos, Dave, not porn photos. There’s a big difference. I don’t do sex shots; I don’t do penetration or oral or close-ups of genitalia. Eroticism hints at all those things, but it allows the mind of the viewer to fill in the blanks. The book we’re discussing would not be something you’d have to purchase at some sleazy adult bookstore; it would be a book for artists and collectors, for students of the art of photographing the human form, and for the libraries of colleges that offer degrees in various forms of photography, from photo-journalism to artistic.”

I shrugged. “Still not wild about the idea of ‘erotic’ pictures of my wife floating around out there for perverts to drool over. Call me crazy, but that’s just the way I feel. You asked, and I told you.”

Alli spoke for the first time since greeting me when I’d walked in. “Honey, please hear him out, and then we’ll look at some of these books so you can get a better idea what he’s talking about; it’s all really very exciting.” She glanced at Derek, and then looked down at the floor, and I recalled her speaking about the unusually submissive posture she took when working for him; it seemed like I was seeing a tiny glimpse of that, and it felt as though someone was sticking needles into my heart.

I looked from her to him, and then back at Alli, and shrugged. “Sure, go on; I’ll hear what you have to say, but I gotta tell you, it’s going to be a tough sell.” I noted that he was still holding her hand.

He chuckled. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less. Dave, there will not be hordes of ‘perverts’, as you said, drooling over Allison. A book like the one I’m contemplating will sell for several hundred dollars, and be a very limited edition; as I said, it will go to collectors of fine art photography and some select universities. You won’t find it at Barnes & Noble, or on Amazon.”

“What, exactly, are we talking about, Derek? As you might understand, this is out of my wheelhouse; I’m not familiar with this type of thing, it’s not my area of expertise – in fact, it’s not something I’ve ever had any contact with whatsoever.” While still carrying very negative feelings toward the concept, I’ll admit that I was intrigued; I like eroticism as much as the next guy!

“Understandable – and that reinforces my point that this is not something that will be widely available to the general public. I’m envisioning as many as two hundred photos, a combination of color and black and white plates, and an index with full details of lighting, exposures, lenses, filters and etcetera for each shot for the students that might use it.” He paused as he selected one of the books that were strewn on the coffee table and handed it across to me. “Here, this is an example that comes close to what I’m visualizing.”

As I took the book from him, Alli rose and disengaged her hand from his before crossing to me and taking a seat on the arm of my chair, her arm across my shoulders as she leaned into me; apparently we were going to peruse the book together. That was fine with me, especially as it had required her to stop holding hands with him.

Looking at the cover and the first few printed pages of the book it became apparent that this was an anthology, a collection of works by different photographers and artists; it was entitled, very simply, “Erotica”. I opened the book, and we began to look at some of the photos. The first few plates were black and white shots of women of assorted races and coloring, all in various states of undress – not dissimilar to the shots he had already taken of Alli when she’d posed for the glamour photo currently residing on my desk at the office.

There were breasts large and small, nipples aroused and not; some showed rear-views, buttocks and legs, and others emphasized faces, eyes, flowing hair, graceful necks, flat stomachs, glimpses of pubic bushes and smooth vulvas… in short, the female form in all its beauty; erotic, certainly, but in no way pornographic.

About a third of the way into the book, however, was a series of color plates that added another dimension to the photos; that dimension was the nude or semi-nude male form alongside that of the female, a fit, well-muscled man somewhat larger than the female subject, the two of them touching each other in one way or another in each shot.

There were twelve photos in the series, all of the same couple in various poses; some were almost like dance poses, the two touching each other, but with gracefulness and flowing lines emphasized over nudity and sexuality. In the final few, however, the theme turned decidedly sexual. Their positions relative to each other became very suggestive, and in the last three the man was fully erect and the woman appeared aroused as well, her face and chest now flushed and her nipples hard and prominent. As in the others, they were touching in various ways, most of them now quite sexual.

In the final shot of the series, she was kneeling slightly in front of him with her head against his thigh, one hand wrapped around his hard cock and the other cupping his balls. I looked across at Derek, and then held up the book. “Is this an example of the kind of photos you anticipate using Alli in?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, to be honest. I don’t have every shot laid out in my head, and some things might be situational; there’s a degree of opportunism involved in getting great photos, and you have to have the flexibility to adjust and the knack to know when the moment is just right.”

I brought the book back down again, to where Allison and I could see it. “I don’t think I’d be okay with Alli posing like this with some strange guy.”

“They’re professional models, Dave; posing is what they do, and there’s no shame in them touching each other for the sake of getting the shot.” He appeared to be genuinely concerned that I might be balking, unwilling to give the go-ahead. He went on, “Anyone she works with would be a pro as well, unless you’d like to pose with her…”

I laughed. “I’m scarcely model material. Sorry, no, my wife has all the good looks in this family.”

He smiled. “You look fine, and you appear to keep yourself in good shape. You don’t have to be model-pretty for this kind of thing; it’s not commercial and it’s not being used to promote anything or sell a product to anyone in the false hope that it will make them as beautiful as the models.” He nodded toward the book. “Keep looking, and you’ll see what I mean.”

So we did, Alli leaning against me and looking over my shoulder, although I felt quite sure she had already seen this book before I got home. The photos varied from very mild to quite explicit, some solo males or females, others with two or more people in varying combinations. There was no doubt that they were largely well-done and erotic, some quite sensual and others more sexual, and my body responded accordingly; soon I was as hard as a rock and throbbing, my susceptibility to visual stimuli again my downfall.

I could feel Alli’s breathing quickening as well, and I knew she was also becoming aroused. For me, I think it was mostly the pictures I was looking at, and less the thought of seeing my wife in similar shots, possibly touching and being touched in such intimate ways by other men or women. I’d be lying, however, if I said that was not a contributing factor, and I had to wonder which of those factors was having the more powerful effect on her… although I think I knew.

When we’d gone all the way through that book he handed us a second, thicker volume, this one by a single photographer, a name I didn’t recognize. While it too contained very erotic photos of women – and men - dressed and undressed, together in various combinations or singly, one section of this book seemed to be reserved for various fetish photos; bondage and light BDSM, latex, very large breasts or cocks, piercings, tattoos, some she-male shots, all kinds of things that fell outside of what one might consider mainstream erotica. Some of the shots in that section struck me as grotesque, but fascinating nonetheless, while others were intensely arousing. I hated to admit that I was becoming very intrigued by the possibility of Allison posing for photos for a book of this nature.

Still, though, the thought of her spending that much time around him, especially in what can only be described as sexual situations… it just didn’t sit well with me. I realized that for some odd reason I was more concerned about her spending time with – and posing for – Derek, than I was about her possibly being in intimate poses with other men.

Author's note: Thanks so much for reading my story, I deeply appreciate it and hope you enjoyed it. I also hope you will be so kind as to take time to score and possibly even leave a comment; it's always good to hear what people are thinking, especially at the end of a long chapter so deeply into a long story. Thanks again, and Happy Lushing!