For about a year before going to University I did some modeling work. I had a contact in the industry, she had other contacts and I guess I had the looks. I did knitwear, fashion, lingerie and some glamour shots which made me feel nervous and sexy at the same time.
When I met my future husband John, who was living in the same Oxford college, I thought he was someone who might be dismissive of so-called bimbos so I didn’t tell him about my previous career. Only after a year or so, when a friend made a joke about models and John said that he would be quite happy going out with one, did I admit to my past exploits.
He didn’t say much at first but I could tell that he was curious, even excited. When I walked around the flat in my knickers and bra I would sometimes stop and pose and he pretended to take photos, getting in close up to focus and asking me to bend over or shift my posture so he could get a better view.
Some while later, soon after we married, he told his best friend Peter about my time as a model. I was amused and flattered that he seemed to be boasting about it. He fished out a few catalogues I had kept, with me in jeans, T-shirts, dressing gowns, nightwear and bikinis.
Peter seemed particularly fascinated by a shot of me in a tiny white mini skirt and low cut flowery blouse – I could see exactly where his eyes were going and hear him swallowing frequently. “I’m afraid she didn’t keep any of the topless pics,” John said with a smile and Peter looked at me and blushed. “That’s a shame,” he said, pretending that he was just joking.
After that, I often saw his eyes gazing at the outline of my breasts or my thighs. In our lounge he would sit opposite me and when I wore a dress he would watch me cross and un-cross my legs. It made me feel feminine and attractive. John had been encouraging me to wear short dresses that summer and, I felt sure, could see what was happening.
One Saturday John and I went shopping and Peter came round that evening for dinner. John told Peter that I had spent loads on new clothes and Peter joked and suggested a catwalk display. To his surprise, John agreed with alacrity. He suggested I start with my holiday skirts and tops.
I went upstairs and changed and came down into the lounge in my short pink wrap-around and tight T-shirt. I then modeled a couple of dresses and ended with a flared skirt in which I twirled round and round to give Peter the briefest of glimpses of my little black panties. “Hurrah,” said John, and I took a bow thinking that was over. Then John said, “what about your new lingerie – cant miss that out!”
I went upstairs and looked at the two sets I had bought. The first was a gorgeous rose pink colour, with fine dentelle lace and a pretty white bow at the top of the panties. I slipped it on and walked slowly down stairs and into the room where both men watched transfixed as I walked up and down the imaginary catwalk.
My most intimate parts were covered up but little was left to the imagination. I went round the room twice, stopping and turning slowly to give them both a good all-round view. I felt warm and slightly flushed with two sets of eyes glued to my figure. As I left the room to get changed I looked at John questioningly. “Go on,” he said, “you must complete the show.”
That was it. Trembling I changed into the other set of lingerie. Sheer black lace with a couple of tiny red hearts at the side but completely transparent. I slipped on a pair of high heels, walked slowly into the room and stopped dead. Peter gasped. He could see everything – the curve of my breast, my nipples, which I knew were getting hard, and the outline of my bush. I then stepped slowly forward and it was as if both men were holding their breath. I went round the room twice and then stood directly in front of Peter. He couldn’t keep his eyes off my tits.
“Do you like what you see?” I muttered and before he had a chance to say a word I turned round, so he could admire my ass. I’ve been told I have a lovely ass and I bent forward slightly so it jutted out and Peter could admire it more closely. Then I could feel his hand on one of my cheeks, gingerly as if he expected me to jump out of the way. But I didn’t move and just enjoyed the feel of his hand brushing the skin through the thin lace. I turned round and bent forward, looking into his eyes. I could see a lump in his trousers. “Would you like to see how I modeled topless?” I said and before he could reply I twisted round again and unhooked my bra.
I waited a minute, keeping him in suspense, gazing at my bottom, before turning back. My knockers were hanging there, inches from his face. He started lifting his hands and I took them in mine, placing one on the side of each breast. Gently his thumbs reached out to caress my nipples and as he started to massage my tits, I could feel that I was getting wet between my legs.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see John watching, with half a smile on his face. Peter pulled my right breast towards him and suddenly my nipple was in his mouth. I could feel his hot breath and his other hand slide down my back and inside my knickers. I gently pulled my breast from his mouth and lifted the other one to his lips. He licked round my areola before taking my nipple between his teeth.
“Did John tell you that I did a little nude modeling as well ..” but before I had a chance to finish the sentence Peter has taken each side of my knickers and started to pull them down. Slowly, carefully, treasuring every inch of revealed flesh.
I lifted each foot and slipped out of my shoes so he could easily take them right off. I was standing completely nude in front of my hubby’s best friend, while my hubby watched. My pussy was only three or four inches from Peter’s face.
With one hand on the centre of my bum, the fingers of the other wove their way through my bush. I was desperate for his finger to find my slit and slide deep inside me. It was a sweet agony waiting. But just as I started to twitch and fidget, he bent down and with a flick of his tongue, he discovered my clit. I must have moaned, I can’t recall. I just remember taking his hands and pulling him up out of his chair. I sat down on the rug in the centre of the room, my head furthest away from John and my legs towards him so he had a perfect view of his wife’s cunt.
I was dimly aware that he had his hand on his groin, and it was slowly moving up and down. Peter was fumbling with his trousers and as he unbuttoned the waist I pulled them down hard bringing his boxers with them. Suddenly there was his giant cock towering over me. His eyes were fixed on my pussy.
I pulled him down to his knees, took his shaft in my mouth and gave it a quick suck. But I couldn’t wait any longer. I wanted him on top of me. I lay down. John watched as I guided his friend’s cock into my vagina. I couldn’t believe it was so big, so thick, but I was so wet he slid in easily.
Looking up I could see the end of Peter’s cock pushing up and down inside me. I reached out to feel the width at its base and run my hands over his balls.
My husband was getting more excited, watching his wife being fucked by another man. I could see that he had taken his cock right out of his trousers and had started to masturbate.
Peter thrust harder and harder inside me, leaning forward and licking each of my nipples in turn. I was so excited I was almost ready to pass out. There was a warm sticky feeling moving across my body, I felt like jelly and with a shudder I knew I was coming. Peter was almost there too and he pulled out just before he came, his hot cum spurting over my stomach, my chest and my breasts. I could feel some on my chin and I scooped some up with my finger and put in my mouth.
As I did this, I could see John come. He had seen me put Peter’s cum in my mouth and he couldn’t hold back any longer. He didn’t try and hide it, but let it spurt out between his hands onto the wooden floor. It kept on coming; I could feel him being drained.
Later, much later, after Peter had gone and John and I had cleared up, we went to bed. We had hardly had time to speak, but as I climbed into bed I could see that his cock was rock hard. “What do you think – shall I continue my new modeling career?” I said with a smile.
Without a word he twisted me round so he was facing my back and he slid into me from behind, his hand reaching up to fondle my tits. Almost straight away he came, he was too excited, he couldn’t hold on any longer. Half an hour later he took me again. He never directly answered my question, but he didn’t need to, I could tell exactly what he was thinking.