The Photo Shoot

I am an exhibitionist. Always have been. I love displaying myself as much as I can. It’s just my particular brand of kink. I’ve written about it before in other posts. I like to compare sexual desire to fire. Not only because that’s what it feels like to me, but because of another reason. Fire is dangerous. If you have it properly controlled it can do all kinds of wonderful and useful things. It can make your life so much easier. If you don’t control it or are careless with it, it has the power to destroy everything. That’s really the motivation I have for writing this blog to begin with. Through a lot of trial and error and pain and bad experiences, I feel like I’ve managed to control my raging fire inside me. It’s still not perfect. I think many people’s houses are metaphorically on fire and they blame sex for their problems when it’s the management of it, not the thing itself.

Part of my management is being open and free with my husband in everything sexually related. That didn’t happen overnight. It was hard and took a lot of work and trust and fights, but we got there eventually.

I know when my fires begin to burn too hot inside. I begin to make poor sexual judgments. I begin to try and hide things from my husband and engage in risky behavior. Like wanting to pick up a stranger, or that one time I got a piercing . . . down there. So what do I do? Usually, I prescribe myself a vigorous course of masturbation and that will do the trick. Sometimes I wear my husband out. That works for me. Sometimes when I’m wearing my husband out, he’ll ask what I need to make myself better. Usually, it’s something exhibition related. Like he’ll drive me around in the car at night with me in the front seat naked. I don’t flash anybody but I’ll gently stroke myself or caress my breasts. One time I brought my vibrator and in a car at night I can scream as loudly as I want. You probably all think I’m insane at this point. The key is, do what works for you.

Since Christmas, my fires have been “burning bright”. I’ve been rather down in the dumps recently. The killing of Tumblr and some illness that I’ve been dealing with had me not feeling sexy at all. I’ve probably let some of my followers down because of that. But inside me, things began to turn around.

Years ago, I let my fires burn a little too bright around New Years and I remember it every year. It’s a mix of shame and excitement. Sometimes regret and sometimes longing to do it again. There are times when my mind wanders during sex when I’m face down and ass up with my husband driving me from behind, I think of that night. Other times I groan in embarrassment. It went like this:

I was married at the time but we had no children. My husband would leave early for work and my shift wouldn’t start until later in the day. I would try and squeeze out as much sleep as I could each and every night. My husband would kiss me and off he’d go and leave me in bed. I sleep naked almost every night. There’s that feeling when you’re warm in bed and the sheets are soft against your bare skin. There’s no pleasure without contrast though and so a heavy breast will pop out and my large areola will wrinkle and tighten in the cooler air, my nipple erect with no one to see it.

I’m fantastically horny in the mornings as well but with my husband gone, I’m usually left frustrated unless I take matters into my own hands. Literally. Well, my own fingers anyway. One morning, I was scrolling through my phone lazily. I accidentally opened the camera app and I saw the front-facing camera. That’s never a flattering view, except this time it was for it was zoomed in on my breasts that were pressed together. I snapped a shot. Then another. And another. I soon found myself in the middle of an impromptu nude selfie photo shoot. It was tricky trying to make myself look as good as possible but I was nailing it! Nearly an hour later, some cropping and deleting later I had about 25 or 30 really good shots and I was dripping wet. I had turned myself on beyond rational control.

Here’s some backstory: Nearly a month previously a handsome young man in our ward had returned from his mission in the Philippines. He was tall and a former track star and the time in the tropics had turned him a delicious golden brown. He was my church crush even though back then I was 6 or 7 years older than him. Is that creepy? No, the creep formula goes like this (Your Age divided by 2) + 7 = Creep Threshold. He was 21 so it’s right there. Anyway, I digress . . .

I fully intended to send the pictures to my husband. I opened the messages and right there beneath my husband’s messages was a message to this Returned Missionary. I had needed to coordinate part of a service project with him earlier. I opened it up. I selected the attachment option. All my filthy selfies came up. It was a lot of flesh. I selected one of the tamer ones. A breast. I meant to debate it further in my mind but before I knew it . . . Off it was sent. A little checkmark appeared at the bottom of my naked breast photo. Delivered.

I buried my face in my pillow and screamed in shock and embarrassment. Well! There was no taking that back now! My clitoris was also throbbing with excitement. It felt as bigger than I’d ever felt it before without assistance. There was a chime on my phone. A reply.

“Umm . . . wow, Sister Wilson. Did you mean to send this to me?” It was now time to lie.

“OH No! Brother Richards! I’m so sorry! Please delete that! I meant to send it to my husband!” The best lies have a bit of truth to them.

I proceeded to apologize profusely. He was gracious and forgiving. The conversation turned casual. I asked, “Have you ever seen one before?” My heart was pounding in my chest.

“Yes.” He texted, “But only in movies. I didn’t know nipples could be that big.”

“They can” I texted back. “Too big?”

“No.” Came the reply. “They’re nice.”

“You know,” I texted, “if you wanted, I could show you more. You know, for science.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you don’t mind.”

I selected a different one. And that began a two-week exchange of nudes. I had to teach him how to send nudes properly.

1. Trim the bush.
2. Shave those balls.
3. Clinically close close-ups don’t do anything for anybody
4. The penis is inherently ugly. Embrace it.
5. Full body nudes work best on the lady types. We want to see all of you.

I got to see his slim hard body and his beautifully proportioned cock. Slimmer and longer than my husband’s. Just different. I even saw a video of him cumming over his stomach. He got to see every inch of me. He saw my hard erect clit, my fingers dripping wet with my juices. He saw me with a finger in my bum and me using beads. Everything. It was a wild ride. Especially when we saw each other in church and gave each other a knowing smirk.

Eventually, his semester started at BYU and we lost contact. Which was for the best. I saw him get married not long after from Facebook updates and smiled, knowing what a wonderful time his new wife would be in for. Maybe a little self-conscious wondering if she was better looking than me without clothes on. About a year into their marriage I got a random message from a number I didn’t recognize, but I did recognize the long stiff cock and the black-haired young bride with her pretty lips wrapped around it from the Facebook wedding photos.  I replied with a thumbs up and a wink emoji. That was the end of it. For now at least. Maybe he’ll text again?