Ross writes for Lynn again

Ross writes for Lynn againWe drove the thirty odd miles to the photographer's studio in silence. Nerves were apparent, but on arrival calmness came over Lynn and I found it was me who was trembling. Of course Lynn had nothing to be worried about, she posses an excellent figure. Although she is 32 years old, her skin glows like that of an 18-year-old. She has shoulder length brunette 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 in front of the camera. Lynn 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 its contents from me At the door of his studio, Ross introduced himself to us and immediately added to Lynn's ease by his cool manner. I feel it also helped that Ross was a past-his-best middle aged chap, probably more under weight than he would have liked, but nonetheless easy to converse with. He wore a tight tee shirt over his 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," Ross told me as Lynn 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 Lynn 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 Ross, 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? Ross 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 Ross called for us to take five whilst he changed the film in his camera, Lynn 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?" Ross 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 Lynn," 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." "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. Ross 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, Lynn appeared before us, dressed - or should I say undressed - in an over tight black and red Basque that heaved the swell and bulk of her breasts upwards and outwards. All that was 'titillating' 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 seamed fully fashioned nylon stockings, connected to the Basque 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 - Ross 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 Lynn 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, and 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 breasts 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. Ross 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." Lynn turned on the spot, letting us now view her rear and the seams of her stockings with the Cuban heel, bending down, a hand appearing between her legs and pressing into the focal point of our attention. I noticed that Ross was sweating profusely, a large damp patch had appeared across his back and his brow was a mass of large droplets, hanging precariously below his grey 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. "Lynn would you mind that?" "What's that honey?" she replied, having not heard the actual question. "Ross 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." Ross 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 Lynn was waiting. It was amusing to see him fully from the back: the crack of his 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; I smiled to myself by thinking of a title for the shot I was about to take; Beauty and the b**st. Lynn towered over him when they were side by side. Ross offered a smile on turning to face his own camera;. Lynn 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 older man to be captured forever beside a woman as sexy as Lynn 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 Ross still next to her, Lynn cupped one of her exposed breasts and positioned it close to one of his 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 Lynn 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 Lynn 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 Ross'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. Lynn 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, Lynn's breath was fast and laboured. The sound of a zip was apparent, and in my peripheral vision I could see Ross's trousers and pants dropping to his ankles. My eyes were still on Lynn though, her eyes now closed, her lips, tongue and teeth familiarising themselves with Ross's. Their kissing was intense; Ross's neck now craning back to ensure full on face against face. One of Ross'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 stomach - a fat penis was coming into view, springing out and audibly slapping against one of Lynn'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 Ross's gyrations, standing proud for a moment then squeezing between them. I couldn't begin to estimate the length of Ross'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 Ross's thwarted this theory entirely. It may even have managed a few degrees more. Lynn raised one of her legs and curled it about his rear. I couldn't envisage what might happen next, but Ross took the weight of her leg in one hand and simply pulled aside her small panties with the other. They both balanced on tiptoes, Lynn arching downwards and Ross stretching to his maximum height. Without guidance, Ross'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 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 old aged man sending my wife 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; Lynn'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 Lynn was the recipient of. She was emitting sounds that were very alien to me, whining to the rhythm of Ross thrusting. Ross himself began to groan as large dollops of sweat swinging from his brow finally dropped to find rest upon Lynn's palpitating breasts. The groans turned into grunts, finally drowning out the sound of Lynn completely. Ross gave a final prolonged thrust, still holding her upon him. I knew that his orgasm had sent his seed deeper into Lynn'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 Ross 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 Lynn whisper as she nuzzled into Ross's face. He grinned, Without looking to me, Lynn unclamped herself from him and scurried behind the curtain to change. Ross 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 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. Lynn offered Ross 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 - Ross's sperm finally assisted by gravity slowly saturating between her legs. "Give us a moment honey," Lynn said to me, pointing me towards the door. I shut the door behind me and waited. When they finally appeared, Ross patted me on the shoulders and thanked me for being such a good sport. I noticed that Lynn hadn't bothered to bring the bag her clothes were in. "You've not picked up your bag Lynn," 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 Ross had now gone 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 Lynn. 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 Lynn 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, Lynn had, in a way, lost her virginity and learned the heights her own sexuality could achieve through a casual fuck.