My Boudoir Photo Shoot Experience

I am an exhibitionist.  This isn’t something that I’ve been too cognizant of for most of my life. In fact, it seems somewhat counter-intuitive, because I go out of my way NOT to be noticed.  Ever since high school, when I endured a major trauma and just wanted to disappear, I’ve tried to NOT draw the eyes of strangers or friends.

When I get my hair cut or colored differently, I hate it when people comment on it.  When I lost a lot of weight, I shied away from those who hadn’t seen me in a while, just to avoid the comments about my new look.  I don’t wear heavy make-up or revealing clothing. (Okay, not usually.)  I tend to go through life quietly, glad when people’s eyes pass over me without a second glance.

Yet, there is a part of me that craves the eyes of strangers.  I have ignored that part my entire life. It just didn’t seem safe, or even plausible, that I could make others notice me in a positive way.  But it is there. I’ve noticed it more and more this past year.

My husband, K, and I are on a sexual journey. We’re discovering new things about each other and are reveling in the experiences.  We’ve tried a lot of new things so far, and for the most part, we’ve really enjoyed them.  Each new experience causes us to stop and reflect.  Sometimes the reflection only lasts for a few hours, as we decide that we really liked whatever new thing we had just tried.  (Ropes!  I just discovered that I absolutely LOVE the way my body looks when it’s all tied up.  Wow!)

Sometimes the reflections take a bit longer to absorb.  My boudoir photo shoot was one of these experiences.  I went to the photography studio on the day of my appointment, apprehensive and nervous on the drive there. I had to drive an hour to get to the studio, located in the nearest big city to my little town.  I didn’t wear panties or a bra – no lines pressed into the skin.  So I drove there, in a t-shirt and skirt, nervous yet excited.  Okay, maybe I pulled the skirt up a bit higher as I drove.  Getting in the mood, right?

When I walked into the studio, something amazing happened.  My nerves disappeared. It was like this was something I had waited my whole life to do.  I got my make-up done, chose the outfits I planned to wear, and then, after a deep breath, told the photographer that I wanted some of the photos to be completely nude.

If you read my last blog, you know the part of the shoot that I had the most trepidations about was having my face photographed.  Somehow, I managed to let those fears go away.  It felt completely natural to walk around this studio, in and out of different rooms, wearing, first, a bustier, panties, stockings, and heels;  then a leather skirt and heels;  then a chain thong that was TOTALLY revealing; then, no clothing at all.  I wasn’t shy, or embarrassed, or nervous, or anything. I just felt sexy.  It was amazing.

Not all of the photos were great.  I hated one entire set, because the lipstick that the make-up girl used on me for those shots really washed my face out and made me look hideous.  But most of the photographs were great, and the ones I loved the most? Those of me completely nude, lying on the bed.  I loved the thought of eyes on me as I lay on my back and posed in different positions.

I can’t get over how pretty my face looks in these pictures.  I’m simply blown away by the fact that I’m pretty.  I think that in a few of the photos, I’m even beautiful.  I don’t know how to whisper a word that I type – smaller font will have to show that I’m scared to even speak that word out loud.  I don’t think I’m beautiful on most days. On most days, I don’t even think I’m pretty.  But in those pictures?  I am.

We picked out the photos to go in the booklet that we’re getting.  And I got 2 separate photos, close-ups of my face, to remind myself that I too, can be pretty.  Perhaps even beautiful.

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Boudoir Photography Shoot? Me?

So, I’m going to get my picture taken next week.  Over and over. I’ve scheduled a boudoir photo shoot. Actually, it was mostly K’s idea.  He loves the idea of boudoir photos and encouraged me to try it.  It was WAY more expensive that I thought it would be, but he was so totally supportive. And I admit, the thought of modeling partly nude, and perhaps even completely nude, really gets me going. 

I know the photos will be tasteful and exciting, no shots of my crotch close up or my butt cheeks spread.  This is a good thing, because I’m nervous enough already.  I’ve always had a secret exhibitionist streak, but this is new to me.  Choosing to get in front of a camera? For 3 hours?  With lingerie, mile high heels, and make-up?  I’m pretty nervous.

I’ve lost a lot of weight in the past year, and my body looks pretty good. I’ve been exercising to tone and strengthen and tighten, but I have some areas that make me uncomfortable. Do you know where you lose weight first, girls? That’s right. The boobs.  And if you lose weight quickly, like I did, due to a long illness?  The boobs really shrink. And not just shrink. Deflate. I used to take my boobs for granted, and now, I just want to cry. And I have extra skin around my belly left. It looks fine if I stand or lie down, but bend over, or get on my hands and knees?  I hate the way I have extra skin on my belly.  

Yes, I’m starting to fixate on the problem areas, instead of my good areas.  And I do have good areas.  I’m short, but when I put on mile-high heels, my legs look pretty damn good. And my ass is nice. I really like how my ass looks, especially in heels.  

K likes all parts of me, even those I hate. He’s wonderful and supportive, and mostly, I’ve learned to let go of the self-hatred and work on the self-worth.  

Do you know the hardest part of the shoot, for me? It’s having them photograph my face.   I’ve always felt ugly.  Ever since childhood, I’ve done what I can to turn attention away from myself.  I’ve learned to like my body, okay, at least most of it, but my face? Not so much.  I’ll concede that I’m not ugly. But I definitely am not beautiful. I have never been one to turn heads, to attract the guys. And okay, I admit I never tried,either. But still. To have a camera taking pictures of my face?  I’m pretty nervous. 

But I’m going to do it. Take the plunge. Take the panties off and put the thongs on. I’ve bought the lingerie and have begun the countdown.  Just a few days to go, and then…..SHOWTIME.

How do you know if you’re kinky?

So K and I are going to our first-ever munch tonight.  I’m a bit nervous, I have to admit.  I have social anxiety under normal circumstances. These aren’t normal circumstances, to say the least.  This is our first attempt to meet people who may be like us.

They may be completely unlike us, too. How do we know if we’re really kinky?  I mean, we both know that we don’t exactly ‘fit’ in our community.  We’re definitely not conservative, we believe in letting people who are consenting adults engage in practices that would be frowned upon in ‘normal’ society, and we both get excited at the thought of bondage.  But hardcore?  I’m not really sure that’s us.

How kinky do we have to be?  I am a closet exhibitionist.  I long to be dominated, tied up, even taken, but only by my hubby.  I don’ think I fit the definition of a true submissive.  I don’t want to be a slave, not sure how much I want to be controlled…..I just don’t know. I do know that our sex life has gotten a lot better since we both admitted we wanted to try more kink in the bedroom.  Wrist and ankle restraints, butt plugs, nipple clips – these are things we didn’t own a year ago.  At the same time, I shy away from real pain. It hurts, and not in a good way for me.  A little bit of pain is erotic.  Real pain just makes me cry.

So how kinky am I?  I just don’t know. How kinky do I have to be to be accepted by this community?

 

Game Over – A Lazy Sunday Afternoon

So I was sitting in my computer chair on Sunday, bored beyond belief.  My kids were off at friends’ houses, K was playing computer games, and even my dog and cat were busy catching zzzz’s.  And me?  I was bored.  Nothing to do.  I just kept staring at my computer, surfing the web, hoping to find something to occupy my attention.

I looked up, brooding on life’s unfairness, and watched K play his video game in the next room.  He gets so involved in his game, the house could collapse around him and he’d never notice.  Didn’t he love me anymore? Didn’t he realize that we were ALONE in the house?  Hmmmmmm…. I started to wonder just what it would take to get his attention.

I made up some game rules in my head.  No noises. No large movements. No obvious calls or signals.  Let’s see how attuned he really was.  I got up and went to the bedroom and brought back a few items to use in this game.  Let the fun begin.

I sat back in my computer chair, and let my hand wander inside my yoga pants.  My freshly shaved pussy felt soft and I stroked the outside of my lips for a while, feeling them respond and start to swell.  I dribbled some baby oil on my fingers and spread it around.  Mmmmmmmm…..that felt so good, I kept going, until I could feel my thighs start to tingle.  I scooted down in my chair a bit more and pulled my yoga pants down until they were around my thighs, still facing my computer, but angled so if K looked up he could see me.  I let my hand keep stroking my clip and lips, and they were getting so swollen.  Not all the slickness I felt was from the baby oil now.  I pushed my index finger up inside me and bit back a moan as my pleasure increased.

I next took out my favorite new toy, my small butt plug that we bought a couple of months ago.  After applying lube, I bent over and inserted it, then sat up and continued stroking my lips.  Oh my. The added fullness just made me hornier.  I was definitely getting heated up, watching K keep pressing buttons on his game.  I wanted to press his buttons.

I grabbed my vibrating dildo and slid it inside me, turned it on, and continued slowly stroking my clip and lips. The fullness of both the dildo and butt plug made my whole pelvis clench and throb, and it was all I could do to stay at a slow stroke and not lose my head completely.  It felt so good, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could continue to stay quiet.  I pulled my shirt up and started pinching my nipples, one then the other.  I loved it when the small pain mingled with the pleasure I felt.

I lost my focus sometime around then, forgetting all about my initial game plan of distracting my man, concentrating instead on the rising tide of orgasm that was swelling inside me.  I kept stroking slowly, knowing that any increase would send me over the edge instantly, wanting to prolong the sensation. I got lost in my pleasure and started moaning softly, panting as my pussy walls started to clench around the rubber cock in me and my clit poked up. Finally I couldn’t help it any more and stroked fast, fast, and all at once my orgasm crested, sending waves after wave of intense pleasure through me. I cried out, riding the wave, and felt my nipples harden, my ass clench, and my walls convulse.

I slowly came down from the high of my orgasm to see my husband sitting in his computer chair right next to me, grinning and stroking his huge hard cock.  I hadn’t even seen him stop his game and come over, I had been so lost in my own pleasure.  I grinned back at him and told him about my plan to distract him from his video game.  I said that I had won, and he only smiled as he stroked his cock.  “We’ll see about that,” he said, opening his legs and gesturing to me to kneel before him.  Game on!

Life Changes

Today is my son’s fourteenth birthday.  It’s a bit surreal, I must admit.  He’s gotten so tall in the past couple of years.  He is showing signs of real maturity (interlaced with signs of immaturity – he’s only fourteen, after all!)  I’m getting glimpses of the adult he is becoming and it’s a wonderful thing to see.

I remember myself at fourteen.  I call that my “awful year.”  That’s the year that spiraled out of control for me and caused so much damage to my psyche and soul.  When I was fourteen, I was molested twice, once by a family member and once by a neighbor.  My one parent on the scene was emotionally unavailable, going through her own version of a nervous breakdown in the aftermath of her divorce. Her response to my attempts to tell her what happened was to move us to another city and never speak of it again.  My father was far away, inventing a new life for himself, and refused my requests for sanctuary.  I drank, I smoked, I wandered the streets and got involved with the wrong people. Luckily enough (looking back on it I can use that phrase – it could have been so much worse) I wasn’t raped, either during the molestations or my wanderings with “friends” while drinking.   I wasn’t beaten or given an STD. I didn’t get hooked on drugs.  But god, the reverberations of those horrible experiences are still with me today.

I withdrew from society and became a loner, even more so than before. I always knew I was ugly, but now I was sure of it – and I think I went out of my way to be unattractive so I wouldn’t be noticed. Do you remember the girl in high school who always avoided eye contact, wore long pants and baggy shirts, never wore make-up, and always had her nose stuck in a book?  That was me.  It didn’t help that we moved 4 times between seventh and twelfth grades, to 3 different cities no less.  By the time I ended up in the last school for my eleventh and twelfth grades of high school, I was a master at avoiding people.  No one noticed me. I talked to no one. I rarely even talked to teachers. I lived through my books.

I got as far away as I could for college, going to a small college on the edge of the mountains.  I did try to open up – I made one close friend, made a couple of contact friends, joined a couple of clubs.  I loved college for the freedom to go where I wanted, when I wanted. But I remained closed emotionally.  And my social skills were nonexistent.  I avoided large groups like the plague, hating to draw attention to myself.

I first started experimenting with larger social groups in my third year of college. I moved closer to home, transferring to much larger college, and got a job as hostess at a local restaurant.  My stepfather got the me the job – I wasn’t exactly “hostess” material, shrinking into the background as I was wont to do!  It was a failing restaurant and we had few customers, but I met a friend there, Alex.  He was gay, about as flamboyant as you can imagine, and was a wonderful introduction to a society I could join and be safe in.  I could go out with Alex to gay clubs and not worry about being looked at.  I loved it. I was craving social contacts, but terrified of it as well and had no idea how to be a “girl.”  I had avoided make-up, girly clothes, heels, you name it. My goal in life up until then was to be invisible, and I had done a great job of it.  So now, how to go about joining life again?   Alex had definite ideas on what a girl should look like and dress like, and while I didn’t agree with him much of the time, it was freeing to try to wear dresses, make-up, etc.  Thanks to Alex, I got a better job waiting tables at a local country club.

At the country club, there was this tall, lanky, gorgeous guy who was the bartender.  He was quiet but oh, so funny.  I made my first straight guy friend and loved the chance to talk with him on slow nights. We became friends, and I eventually realized that he liked me.  Oh god. I was terrified.  I had almost no experience with guys.  I didn’t date in high school, didn’t go to my prom or senior events. I didn’t date in college, either. Hell, I barely talked to girls – I had NO experience talking to guys!  Alex and his buddies weren’t much help, either. They were convinced I was gay.  They even set me up on a couple of dates with lesbians, sure that would trigger my inner gayness.  These didn’t work – I was attracted to the girls, I agree – to this day I consider myself “heteroflexible”, not straight – but there wasn’t a spark there.

So here was this smart, funny, gorgeous guy who seemed to like me.  He wrote me poetry. He sang songs. We would talk for hours. And I liked him, too.  But I was so scared, and so shut off.  The first time we necked and I let him get his hands inside my pants, I had a major panic attack. In fact, the first times we ever tried new things, I would have long, jagged crying spells afterwards.  And still, he liked me.

At social events I would freeze up. We’d go out with his buddies and I would hide in the corner, never able to talk and usually being incredibly anti-social. And still he liked me.  I tried to tell him that it wouldn’t work, that we couldn’t be together. And still he liked me.

It’s been almost 20 years now that we’ve been together.  K saved my life. He saw inside the hard frozen shell that I kept erected around myself to the soft, creamy center. He broke through my walls and drew me out.  Because of him, I have discovered myself. I even like myself (most days!)  I have discovered that I am sexual, that I am sexy, that I am beautiful, that I am social, that I AM.

I guess my son turning fourteen triggered this reflection on my life, where it started going badly and where I’ve ended up.  My wish for my son is to have a joyful life, one filled with hope and inspiration and love. I hope and pray he never has an event that sends him hiding inside his shell for years, scared to come out.  He’s growing and changing and becoming a wonderful man.  My wish is for him to one day meet a girl (or guy) that he will love forever, one he is willing to wait for, work for, hope for, wish for.  I want him to grow up to be a man like his father,  like K.  A good, kind-hearted man who can make his partner’s dreams come alive.

Our Trip to New Orleans, Part 2

Okay,  I did promise a follow-up to our trip to New Orleans, so here goes.  

We decided to go to Collette’s, a swingers club in New Orleans.  Not that we’re swingers – well, we don’t think we are, who knows?  We’ve already discovered several things about ourselves that were hidden, so maybe we are. But at this point in time, we’re not.  We went to Collette’s for a couple of reasons.  

1 – We wanted to keep exploring alternative life styles.  This seemed like a good way to see other people being sexually aware without being too risky, and would give us a chance to see how we both reacted to sexually aware people in a public place.

2 – I have a definite exhibitionist streak, and wanted to see if I was daring enough to “show my goods,” as it were.  

So, this nightclub experience was to be the culmination of our trip to New Orleans.  I went shopping before we left for New Orleans to find the perfect outfit.  The club was advertising $20 off if ladies went without panties – and you had to prove it, of course.  So I needed a dress that I could reveal myself in easily, yet still be able to walk to the club down the streets of New Orleans without getting in trouble. 

Have I mentioned that I have self-image/body issues?  I guess all women (and probably a lot of men) do.  I have never considered myself to be sexy or even attractive. Even now that I’ve lost a lot of weight and think my body looks pretty good, I still don’t like my face.  So this was going to be a tough assignment for me.  I had to feel sexy and look sexy too. 

I found some amazing high heels – I had to hold on to K to walk in them on the streets, but I loved the way they made my legs and ass look.  I wore a garter belt with black lace stockings, a sexy push-up bra, a demure dress that was silky/satiny with a low-cut neckline that was easily opened and a skirt that could easily be pushed up.  I did my make-up and I did feel sexy.  I was proud of myself.

When the time came to go to the club, I got really nervous.  Like, really nervous. I tend to chatter to K when I’m nervous, so I kept up a running commentary on every possible topic on our short 3-block walk to the club.  I decided on the way that I was just not brave enough to flash my crotch, so we’d just have to pay the extra $20.  

When we got there, we were ushered into a foyer where we had to pay our entrance fee.  I shocked myself when the lady asked me if I was wearing panties – I said no and pulled up my skirt, as if I was always this brazen.  I still smile when I remember doing that – I can be brave!

Both K and I are introverts. We are shy. We do not go out to socialize with strangers.  This makes our venture to this particular club a bit odd, I guess, but we really wanted to see just who comes to clubs like this. Is it all just skeezy guys looking to score, or are there couples we’d find interesting and attractive?  The answer is YES – to both questions. 

We spent the first 30 minutes or so downstairs next to the bar area/dance floor.This place is a BYOB, but both K and I had opted to not bring in any alcohol.  Me, because one drink sends me to sleep, and K, because he’s not a big drinker and had already had a couple of beers with dinner.  We couldn’t bring ourselves to go up to anyone and talk, so we just necked and relaxed a bit on one of the couches. We had been given a tour by this bubbly funny lady, so we knew that upstairs was where most of the “action” would take place.  I people watched, and was nervous when I caught some couples watching back.  Was I up to this?

We eventually got up the courage to head upstairs.  I wanted to go into the “library,” a room with several couches close together for couples to watch each other, but lost my courage.  We ended up on an empty couch that was in the main hallway area, where people would pass by us when they came up the stairs.  Honestly, I picked that couch because I just couldn’t bring myself to go further – if we had gone down the hallway a bit more, we would have come to the bedrooms and I just couldn’t. Not on this first visit.  We could see into the library from where we were, but we were removed from it. 

We necked quite a lot, whispered to each other and giggled, and I did pull open my top to let K nuzzle and lick my nipples.  I also parted my legs and let K’s hand travel up to my slit and stroke me there.  It felt quite brazen, but I think in retrospect it was probably pretty tame. But for me, it was quite thrilling.  We did have several people walk by, and some  stopped and watched.  I kept my face hidden but loved the idea that my pussy was exposed for others to see. 

We didn’t stay for too long, and our adventures were tame, I suppose, compared to others, but for our first foray into the world of adventurous sex, we did okay. We made our way back to the hotel, had amazing sex, and then snuggled.  I counted the evening a success, although I admit to feelings of guilt and shame later – I have guilt/shame issues, but what person doesn’t?  Still, I loved it – though I’m not sure if I liked the club per se, or just the feeling of being on display.  

Our adventures are ever-changing.  We plan to attend a munch soon for a local BDSM group and get to know the members and see if we fit. I am going to get some nekkid boudoir photos done before the end of summer – that will be a challenge, but I am hyped. And……we’ll see. Who knows what comes next?