bedroom and never with anybody save her husband was caught up in the mounting fever. A small, irrational tingling started growing in her loins and inner thighs, and she could tell her vagina down between her thighs was beginning to moisten with the lubrications of building sensuality.
No! she thought, this is a bad thing to be doing…! But she looked up at the lusting face of her husband, dropped her eyes to the pulsing bulge clearly evident in his pants, and her own desires grew still more. He's liking this… she concluded. I'm not… I'm highly ashamed at my display, but it's getting Howie excited, and I guess that's what's making me feel so passionate… certainly it can't be these erotic pictures of myself…
Stifling a soft moan of inner protest, Cindy lay down on the couch, leaning forward so that the full expanse of her rounded breasts were in view. Again, strangely, she became aware that she too was becoming excited, that her turgid nipples were rising into tantalizing little buds, pressing against the very edge of her bra's cups. Stop! This just isn't right! she moaned to herself. Hurry, Howie, hurry up with the picture!
'Wait a minute, honey,' her aroused husband said. 'Let's make it a little better.' He put down the camera on the coffee table and bent over his trembling wife. He fingered her skirt, the electric contact as he brushed against her skin making her gasp. 'Let's see a little of your panties…'
He had gone too far! Cindy, her eyes clearly showing the agonizing choice she had to make now, her sense of decency by saying 'no' to her own husband, or her desire to please him by saying 'yes'. She pressed her thighs together tightly, stopping him.
'Don't be such a prude!' he suddenly snapped. The alcohol, the growing lust-fever of the snapshots, all had now combined to make him lose control in bitter words.
Defiantly, now angered at her husband, Cindy cried, 'What a thing to say, Howie! I'm not a prude!' And to prove she wasn't, she spread her legs, letting him take her skirt and roll it to her waist. There was a sharp intake of breath as Howard gazed down with feasting eyes on the tender, barely covered pubic triangle of his young wife. 'This… this is going to be the last one, though,' she said miserably. 'No… no more of these awful pictures.'
'Sure, sure, honey,' Howard agreed, hardly cognizant of what she had said. 'We'll go to bed after this one.' He angled the camera so that most of the picture would be of her delicious breasts and panties, making sure that the soft warm curls of pubic hair which managed to peek out from under the legbands of her panties were clearly visible. 'To bed,' he repeated hoarsely and snapped the picture.
'Wow!' he gulped when a moment later he held up the shot. Everything was in perfect focus, a fine photo. Once more his wife was before him, the flimsy white bikini panties she wore a teasing cover to her sweet, tempting vaginal slit… and the rounded spheres of her breasts were all but fully exposed, ready to break loose from the wispy bra which covered her nipples. 'Oh, wow!' he cried, and his mouth watered.
Cindy was sitting up now, smoothing her skirt down over her legs. She was nearly in tears. She got to her feet and saw that her husband was busily thumbing through the naughty collection he had just taken, and unsteadily she walked to the bedroom.
She couldn't look at herself as she undressed, and slipped on her white nightgown with the same averted eyes. She couldn't look at herself, not now, not after what she had allowed Howie to do with her. Oh, God, but I do love him… She slid under the sheets and turned off the bedside light, plunging the room into darkness.
She lay there, waiting for her husband to come to her, upset by his lusting behavior, still more distraught by her own. She had let him do his will with her, and worse, she had become excited as he had. True, it wasn't because of the pictures — of that she adamantly refused to admit — but only because seeing her husband wanting her so much made her react.
What a terrible way for their third anniversary to end! Oh, if only the Taylors could have foreseen what their gift would have meant, she was sure that they'd never have given it! And where was Howie? Was he still looking at those damning pictures?
'Howie!' she called out. 'Please come to bed!'
'C–Coming, honey,' came the wavering reply. 'I–I was just having another drink!' His strong, masculine form suddenly filled the doorway, and then the lights went on again. Cindy shielded her eyes with her arm. 'Turn off the lights,' she said.
'In a minute, honey. In a minute.' He shed his clothes quickly, and then he was on the bed beside her in a kneeling position, naked, his erect and pulsating cock already standing out from his groin. 'You're beautiful, Cindy,' he murmured, and slowly slid the sheet away from her, exposing her again.
'Howie,' the trembling young wife responded. 'Howie, I love you so much!'
'Mmmm!' he answered as he unbuttoned the nightie at the throat and let it fall away from her body, a cascade of filmy white. He roamed his hands over her, playing with her breasts, tweaking her nipples into vibrating firmness. He had never stopped marveling in her beauty, her wide-eyed, almost shy way she came to him, as though she was a virgin every time, as though he was the only man who could arouse her to where her passion overcame her 'first time' reluctance. And he was the only man!
Then he looked at her, smiling, and in his hands were those filthy pictures! Cindy gasped, cringing down in the bed as she saw them. 'Put them away, Howie,' she protested.
He grinned lewdly, his face a mask of desire. 'Why? They're only of you, my darling. Here, see this one?' He cast a shot of her on the couch in front of her eyes… and once more she saw herself smiling provocatively, her throbbing breasts rich and full, her skirt high and her soft white panties in full view…
'Please! Howie,' she moaned, and twisted her face away, but as she did so, she glimpsed down her body, at her breasts which were now unhampered by a bra, at the flat plane of her trembling belly, at the soft, lovely spread legs and the soft pubic down which covered her pink vaginal opening. For one terrifying moment she saw that inexplicably her cunt was shining with the excited honeyed dew of her secretions…
She was excited! And strangely, by those damnable pictures!
The force of the realization was crippling; a blow like a tornado, filling her mind with a lurid feeling of degradation and shame. Her eyes filled with hot tears of self-abasement, and in agony, she grabbed the pictures from her husband and threw herself in his arms. She wouldn't admit her arousal, not to herself, and especially to her husband. What would a man think of his sweet, loving wife, then? Terrible things! She gripped the heaving, naked chest of Howard, afraid he would cast her aside as some whore, some defiled harlot sick of mind and body, if he knew what those few snapshots had done to her…
'Howie, love me,' she pleaded desperately. 'Love me slow!' she dropped the photos to the bed, where Howard still saw them, and as he once more spied the curls of golden fleece peeking out of the silken legband of her panties, his cock leapt to a new, full-blooded high. He arched his groin, moving his hardened shaft up and down along her upper belly, for he was still on his knees and she was sitting up… he groaned, feeling the heat of his long-building sexual fire become a raging inferno inside his lust-bloated penis and sperm-filled balls…
He leaned back and in doing so his cock neared her breasts. For a moment he shut his eyes, letting the remembrance of those tantalizing lips in the pictures play in his passion-filled brain, and thinking of their softness, their butterlike pliancy on his own lips, he began to ache for them to kiss his pulsing cock. He groaned, sliding uncontrollably up on the bed, angling so that his cock was to his nubile wife's trembling chin.
His hand snaked along the covers to the pictures. His fingers felt their edges and even though he couldn't view them, he knew now from memory what each contained, and the thoughts drove to new urgency. As he had so many times in the past when aroused to such a point, he dismissed what he knew was her natural aversion to such an act, and groaned to his wife: 'Kiss me, Cindy… kiss me there!' His hardened penis was almost to her ruby lips; all she had to do was bend her face a scant few inches, and her mouth would be closing over the sensitive, fully grown head…
A shudder passed through Cindy. 'No… no… not that, Howie! You know I… can't… not there!' She turned her face away, her features contorted in a look of revulsion as if to kiss him, to suck his penis was a foul, bitter thing to do. 'Not down there,' she whispered, and she moved forward, her arms encircling his head and pulling him downwards, full length along the bed. 'I… I know you want me to, but don't make me,' she sobbed, 'I want to make you happy, but not that way. Please!'
As before, as always, the urgent and overwhelming desire to have his wife's delicate, soft, warm mouth close around his prick died; the image of her mewling and crooning as he spurted his white hot sperm into her throat vanished with reluctant regard for Cindy's abject repulsion of the act. This was the only flaw in an otherwise wonderful relationship, and at no time in their three years of making love had he been able to prove the eroticism of lips against vagina, mouth against penis. He held her tight, feeling her warm body undulate uncontrollably against his body, her soft belly and pelvis grinding against his penis until her refusal was forgiven and his disappointment
