Beauty & the Beast
DChatterly@hotmail.com 1997

I feel I have to tell my story, to let others know how dangerous it
can be to act on a whim, to misinterpret desire and allow events to
carry themselves as far as they could possibly go.

It began when I spotted an advert for a local photographer in a
mainstream adult magazine. I decided that it would be great to
posses some personal glamour photographs of Rachel my wife, before
time took its toll on her, at present, fabulous body. Pictures that
I could keep and remember just how gorgeous she was, how lucky I
was, how very lucky. 

Being a pretty hopeless photographer myself, I decided that it best
be done by a professional. I tested her reaction by remarking
casually that I imagined she would brush up better than many of the
models in the magazine. She laughed at the thought, stating that she
doubted she would have the confidence to pose in such a way. I
continued comparing her present beauty to those young women in the
magazines over the following weeks, trying to build her confidence
up as much as possible. Finally I revealed my reasoning; my wish to
see her posing in her underwear.

"Would it stop you buying those damn magazines?" she asked me
outright. "If I were to give you some pictures of your very own, for
your eyes only. Would you stop?"  I had to nod. If that's what it
took to get the pictures I desired, then so be it - I would cease my
lifelong love of porn magazines. We had an agreement.

After one phone call I arranged a session for the following weekend.
I instructed the photographer that it would tasteful shots of Rachel
in lingerie, with possibly a few nudes or semi-nudes depending on
how comfortable she felt. 

The rest of the week, Rachel was nervous as hell, I was excited in
anticipation. All our spare moments were spent contemplating the
event. Rachel even shopped for some especially sexy outfits that she
refused show me  - making me long for the time to arrive.

We drove the thirty odd miles to the photographer's studio in
silence. Nerves were apparent, but on arrival calmness came over
Rachel and I found it was me who was trembling. Of course Rachel had
nothing to be worried about, she posses an excellent figure.
Although she is 26 years old, her skin glows like that of an
18-year-old. She has shoulder length blonde hair, the most gorgeous
natural pout that is always the recipient of comments. Her breasts,
although smallish, exhibit a natural firmness that always ensures
they appear prominent - added to the way she carries her small frame
- her straight back, neat shoulders, lean shapely legs - I knew she
would be a natural behind the camera.

Rachel stretched over to the back seat of the car to pick up her
clothes bag. She was dressed in tight leggings and a short-cropped
waistcoat that lifted to reveal the lightly tanned skin on the small
of her back. I marvelled for a moment at the shapeliness of her slim
rear as she struggled to lift the bag whilst concealing it's
contents from me

At the door of his studio, Bill introduced himself to us and
immediately added to Rachel's ease by his cool manner. I feel it
also helped that Bill was a past-his-best middle aged chap, probably
more over weight than he would have liked, but nonetheless easy to
converse with. He wore a tight tee shirt over his large paunch that
showed a line of sweat down his back and two large dollops in
residence within each armpit. I soon understood why he was sweating
in such a manner - the studio we were ushered us into was very warm,
lit brightly by two large fluorescent lamps.  

"Your wife is a very sexy looking woman," Bill told me as Rachel
popped behind a curtain to change. I smiled in response, watching
him set up his equipment in front of a makeshift bed that lay
cramped below a floral backdrop. "You two been married long?"

"About six years," I told him. He continued some pointless small
talk as we waited for the session to begin. He looked at his watch
several times, knowing that we had already agreed upon a price
despite the time the afternoon would take.

When Rachel finally appeared, she looked even better than my over
active imagination could have conjured.  She wore a purple
all-in-one outfit - as short as to be misconstrued as short shorts -
but a second glance unveiled that it was a skirt of sort - so tight
as to appear almost painted across the contour of her firm buttocks.
The top half it was joined onto was just as tight, with two flimsy
button straps supporting the whole outfit upon her glorious body. I
think the sight equally shocked Bill, but as soon as she appeared he
was behind the camera, clicking furiously.  I wondered why she had
opted for such an outfit instead of the traditional
stocking-suspender approach, but as she sat before me on the end of
the pretend bed, shoulders back, perfect contours visible and
accentuated by the skimpy, clingy material, I didn't mind in the
slightest. I think she had intended to show me something different -
and show me she did. She posed naturally, well, as natural as you
can when dressed in such a way. As she lifted her legs to kneel atop
the bed, I caught a glimpse of the soft downy hair that surrounds
her pubic area - well how could she have worn panties with the
outfit? Bill urged her to press her hands into her breasts - he
continued to click the camera as she responded by doing just as he
asked. When Bill called for us to take five whilst he changed the
film in his camera, Rachel came over and sat on my lap.  She kissed
me lightly on the cheek. "Well will this do the job?" she asked,
giggling as she suddenly felt the stirring of my cock below my
trousers. "Do you like watching your wife?"

 Bill left us alone for a minute and I dared to let my hand poke its
way up inside the tightness of material covering her bum. 

"God Rachel," I whispered. "You look so hot, I have never.."

"Shhhh." She whispered and nibbled my ear. "I want you to remember
how I am today for rest of your life"

"God I will, I will."

Here was my wife of six years, simply sitting on my knee, rendering
my breathing uncontrollable; making it difficult to contain my
desire for her. At last!  I was grateful that this was happening
now. Our sex life was quite unfruitful - probably my fault I
suppose, I expected a lot from her, and didn't give a lot in return.
I regarded myself as lucky to be married to such a beauty, and right
at this moment I realised again why I was so lucky. Rachel had never
had a lover before me, and on a few occasions lately I had ridiculed
her due to this, declaring to her that her lack of understanding of
the needs of men was becoming obvious.  This was a bit unfair I
suppose, Rachel, despite her looks is quite insecure about her
sexuality and certainly usually conservative about her clothes and
attitude - a prude I call her. But on another level I was actually
embarrassed by my lack of skill when it came to pleasing her and was
using the ridicule as a way of hiding it, to preserve my manliness.
S o I chose to abstain from sex as often as possible without losing
her respect, making excuses - then turning to my magazines in
private and jerking off till my hearts contentment.  I knew she was
way short of fulfilment, but thankfully perhaps she did not quite
realise what she was short of. I was running short of excuses.

"End of part one!" She announced and leapt up from my lap. She
disappeared from view, leaving me-and-my raging-hard-on eager to
witness more of the same in the second part. 

Bill re-appeared with his film. "She's just changing into something
else," I told him, a gleeful expression abundant upon my face. 

"Fine by me friend," he responded throwing me a truly grateful
smile, obviously for allowing him this opportunity to observe my
wife in such a way.

He didn't have to wait long, Rachel appeared before us, dressed - or
should I say undressed - in an over tight black and red bsque that
heaved the swell and bulk of her breasts upwards and outwards. All
that was 'titillatingly' covered at this point were her nipples,
amazingly concealed by the skilful positioning of the thin lacy
fabric. The panties that went with the top were minuscule with
simple thin straps at each side, precariously holding the matching
material in position. Just below this sight were delicate black
stockings, connected to the basqe in such a way as to hold them
firmly and highly - not allowing too much outer thigh to be obvious.
My mouth hung open - but not our photographer friends - Bill was
already taking in the sight by means of the camera lens - and thank
God for that, for it was a sight I certainly wished to remember. 

This time Rachel chose to stand and be pictured - standing taller
then I had ever seen her before, peering from the height the high
heels she wore afforded her. With every click of the camera her
expression made it obvious her confidence was on the upsurge. Her
hands took up short residence on her hips, then moved over the
tightness of the material on her tummy up to her breasts. She cupped
them fully, offering them completely to the camera. With one adept
movement of her nimble fingers, she pulled on the tie that kept them
from our sight - they were suddenly revealed - escaping from the
confines of the fabric as it moved downwards. Her hands disappeared
from sight and only reappeared to pull off the flimsy top
completely. Her hands were back to her hips, wordlessly saying, 'Now
what do you think of that?'

Proudly parading the firmness of her body, she went motionless for a
moment and allowed me to take in the sight. She threw me a
completely wicked smile - eyes wide and cheeks flushed heavily. My
wife had never before stripped for me in such a way. It was
fascinating as well as erotic to see her beasts shown off in this
manner. I was struggling to gain comfort in the small wicker chair
on which I sat as my cock twitched and stirred unseen. This was
better than viewing pictures in any magazine.

Bill was the first to break the salacious silence: "Come on love,"
he chanted. "Keep it going. Don't stop now." His words were hurried
and eager to gain the right response. "You're killing me here. Come
on. Come on baby." Rachel turned on the spot, letting us now view
her rear, bending down, a hand appearing between her legs and
pressing into the focal point of our attention.  

I noticed that Bill was sweating profusely, a large damp patch had
appeared across his wide back and his brow was amass of large
droplets, hanging precariously below his greasy hairline. This man
was excited as hell. He had stopped taking pictures now and stood
gawking directly at my wife's beautiful rear. Admittedly I found it
quite exciting to see the effect she was having on him. "You lucky
bastard," he whispered quietly enough so only I could hear. Pride
crept into my now intensifying emotions. "Listen, " he continued.
"If you take one picture of me standing next to her, I'll give you
all the pictures I have taken today for free. Would you mind that?"

"Hell, I don't mind," I answered. "Rachel would you mind that?" 

"What's that honey?" she replied, having not heard the actual
question.

"Bill was wondering if I would take a photo of him with you," I told
her. "He's going to give us the pictures for nothing."

She turned to face us both. "I don't mind, OK then." Bill ushered me
to the camera and proceeded to demonstrate how to take the shot.
After I was informed of what button to press, he lined up the camera
and walked over to where Rachel was waiting. It was amusing to see
him fully from the back: the crack of his large backside visible
above the waistband of his jeans; the dampness across his shoulders
culminating in a thick dark line running down the complete length of
his tee shirt; his long-gone waist truly thickened to a point way
beyond middle age spread. I smiled to myself by thinking of a title
for the shot I was about to take; Beauty and the Beast. Rachel
towered over him when they were side by side. Bill offered a smile
on turning to face his own camera; a toothless and unsanitary
effort. Rachel gave an exaggerated pout. I pressed the button. 

In that instant I was contemplating how this guy must have been
thinking all his birthdays had come at once - how lucky it was for
such a brute to be captured forever beside a woman as sexy as Rachel
was this afternoon. I understood why he wanted his picture taken
like this; a chance to show his mates, and perhaps exaggerate
exactly what he'd been up to. 

With Bill still next to her, Rachel cupped one of her exposed
breasts and positioned it close to one of his fat unshaven cheeks. I
grinned at the sight and captured the moment on film. 'There you go
you sod,' I thought, 'show that one to your drinking buddies'. Her
arms encircled his neck and pressed the side of his head into her
cleavage. One of his hands found its way around her waist and the
position lingered. She turned to him side on, this time allowing him
some movement of his face still between her breasts. His tongue
protruded and flicked the nipple that was now facing me. 

"Hey you dirty sod, " I shouted, half expecting Rachel to slap him
or shove him away violently. "That's enough of that." I voiced my
words in an unthreatening manner, to grant a moment for the
situation to be resolved without any conflict. But he continued to
revolve his tongue around the same breast. I could now see a trace
of saliva remaining where his tongue had persisted. What surprised
me most was that Rachel had not yet acted as I'd expected; she'd not
lashed out and screamed in frightful disgust. I tried again: "Right
then, that's the photo shoot over." But her hands were now firmly on
the back of Bill's head, gripping his hair between her fingers,
pulling his face - making him swap the licking he'd begun for
nibbles and prolonged kisses. His hands suddenly pressed into her
chest, one on each breast, burying his face yet deeper between them.  

I would have, I should have marched over and pulled him away from my
wife. Yet something kept me rooted to the spot; my own lust had been
provoked. The whole of the afternoon I'd been subjected to a hard on
and this was no different.  As my heart pounded I silently observed
a sight that should have disgusted me. Instead I was transfixed.

Rachel did not look in my direction; instead she continued to allow
this ruffian to claw her almost naked torso. One of his hands
abandoned its commitment to her breasts and struggled to unfasten
the belt around his waist. Over the jangle of the buckle
unfastening, Rachel's breath was fast and laboured. The sound of a
zip was apparent, and in my peripheral vision I could see Bill's
trousers and pants dropping to his ankles. My eyes were still on
Rachel though, her eyes now closed, her lips, tongue and teeth
familiarising themselves with Bill's. Their kissing was intense;
Bill's neck now craning back to ensure full on face against face. 

One of Bill's hands still kept a connection with my wife's breasts,
the nipples of which were unusually vertical. His other hand was
enterprising a more intended task in pulling forth his cock from the
opening in his boxer shorts. My eyes roamed to this area below his
fat gut - a similarly fat penis was coming into view, springing out
and audibly slapping against one of Rachel's stocking clad legs.
It's dark purple head oozed traces of clear liquid over the very top
of her black stockings. It's bulk moved along with each of Bill's
gyrations, standing proud for a moment then squeezing between them.

 I couldn't begin to estimate the length of Bill's cock, but it put
my own to shame, maybe a couple of inches longer but certainly over
twice the girth, amazingly swollen and upright. I always believed
the angle ones cock sat at reduced with age, but Bill's thwarted
this theory entirely. It may even have managed a few degrees more
had it not been for his belly forcing itself in the way.  

Rachel raised one of her legs and curled it about his podgy rear. I
couldn't envisage what might happen next, but Bill took the weight
of her leg in one hand and simply pulled aside her small panties
with the other. They both balanced on tiptoes, Rachel arching
downwards and Bill stretching to his maximum height. Without
guidance, Bill's cock muscled forward in-between the parted panties,
then located itself at the outer point of my wives visibly grateful
cunt lips. I lost sight of their adjoining as she wrapped both her
arms strongly about his neck and raised herself off the floor, using
her legs as the ultimate gripping force around his bulky middle. She
yelled out as the momentum forced their bodies to lock together by
the penetration of his massive cock. His leg muscles had no trouble
taking her full body weight, but his large hands, idling upon her
neat bum - driving himself deeper - alleviated the burden. Burden?
What am I saying? Here was a fat ugly middle aged man sending my wi
fe into spasms of ecstasy by means of a simply executed fuck -
something I had struggled to do since our sex life began. This was
the moment our life turned to a point of absolute no return;
Rachel's sexual awakening.
 
Paralysed by the sight and sound before me, I succumbed to the power
of my own sexual energies and realised, without so much as a finger
brushing over my trouser front, that I had come. 

Despite the awareness of stickiness inside the crotch of my
trousers, I still couldn't remove my line of sight from the
unremitting fucking that Rachel was the recipient of. She was
emitting sounds that were very alien to me, whining to the rhythm of
Bills thrusting. Bill himself began to groan as large dollops of
sweat swinging from his brow finally dropped to find rest upon
Rachel's palpitating breasts. The groans turned into grunts, finally
drowning out the sound of Rachel completely. Bill gave a final
prolonged thrust, still holding her upon him. I knew that his orgasm
had sent his seed deeper into Rachel's body than mine had ever
ventured. She audibly showed her gratitude as their momentum waned,
then her lips moved to his and they kissed. Even though Bill had
eased her back down to the ground, his cock still maintained its
positioning within her. His belly was no longer stuck to her but I
could see his shaft protruding out from below it, the head still
planted and gripped between her glistening skin.

"That was fantastic," I heard Rachel whisper as she nuzzled into
Bill's face. He grinned, displaying teeth that had long since felt a
toothbrush against them. Without looking to me, Rachel unclamped
herself from him and scurried behind the curtain to change. Bill
grabbed his trousers and pants and proceeded to cover himself up.
His large white Y fronts were stained yellow at the crotch. He
pulled them over his satisfied looking cock and snapped the
waistband around his immense belly. 

"Sorry about that my friend, " he said. "That sometimes happens the
first time they pose like this." He walked towards where I sat. "I
can see that you didn't mind." He glanced down at the darkened damp
patch covering the front of my denim jeans. "Maybe your wife hasn't
enjoyed a good fuck for a while," he said to me with a knowing
smile. She appeared behind him, dressed again in the clothes she had
arrived in. I couldn't find any words to say; the images of moments
before were still burned behind my eyes.   

Rachel offered Bill a lengthy kiss before we departed. Their tongues
fought to find each other's mouth. His hands encircled her rear,
again pressing her towards him. A damp patch had now appeared on the
front underside of her leggings - Bill's sperm finally assisted by
gravity slowly saturating between her legs. 

"Give us a moment honey," Rachel said to me, pointing me towards the
door. I shut the door behind me and waited. When they finally
appeared, Bill patted me on the shoulders and thanked me for being
such a good sport. I noticed that Rachel hadn't bothered to bring
the bag her clothes were in.

"You've not picked up your bag Rachel," I commented as we walked to
the car. 

"Well I thought maybe we could pick it up some other time," she
replied, smiling, furtively widening her eyes. "So what did you make
of the session?" She then asked quietly, seeing that Bill had now
went back inside and closed his door. "Still think I'm a prude?" 

She giggled to herself, and I still couldn't think of a way to
respond. There was no way I was going to jeopardise my marriage in
any way. I would never have found anyone to measure up to Rachel. I
always had known that I was a more comfortable as a voyeur than
lover - being that any of my previous sexual encounters had proven
dismal failures. This was something I had never really come to terms
with until now. Before my marriage to her I had had no trouble
getting one night stands - but that's all they remained: one night
stands. Sadly none of them would ever look for a repeat performance.
I was lucky to have captured Rachel when I did, and with her not
having any experience to speak of, well, her ignorance was my bliss.
I suppose this was bound to happen. 

So I concluded in those seconds after she asked me the questions
that I couldn't complain about what had happened, and whatever was
in store. It wasn't so much as accepting defeat, as a realisation
that what had transpired had been as erotic and exciting for me as
anything I had experienced. And into the bargain, Rachel had, in a
way, lost her virginity and learned the heights her own sexuality
could achieve through a casual fuck.     

Please send comments, remarks, complaints, praise, disgust, good
cheer, and whether you actually think I should continue in this
vain to DChatterly@hotmail.com


