1. 45 From cheating housewife to who knows what? Pt1


    Date: 7/21/2015, Categories: Fetish, Author: alibodge, Rating: 50, Source: xHamster

    deal, I don’t think of myself fabulous bodied model though its true some folk fancy me a lot but here was this great chunk asking just to take my picture like I was something special, not for him money or whatever, I suddenly understood that he just wanted companionship perhaps by being so outsize he felt no woman would want him and this was his only way of introducing himself. I asked him to sit with me which he did, and we talked for a while, as he laid before me all the copies of pictures of me he had, there were about 30 in all, slutty ones, dressed ones, tidy ones and ones I would not want my mother to see, pictures of Steve screwing me over the table, the sofa back, and with my hands hanging on the mantelpiece while he gave it me from the back giving a blow job and who knows what else. He was a good photographer, no David Bailey but good nonetheless he had captured the moment well my face showing the emotions of each separate occasion, the feelings, even the joy in each separate act. I thought I would try talking, for at least a start, he being not that ugly in a craggy sort of way. “Tell me about your home life,” I asked “have you no woman in your life?” He told me his wife was unable now to enjoy sex in any form and that he found it so frustrating that he needed some other outlet, as he was afraid of where his desires may lead him if he did not find a way of venting his sexual energy and soon. He was frightened of one day committing a **** or worse just to vent his ...
    sexual needs, and he had had the idea of taking photos of me when he had seen me at the door, the first time the pieces of the jigsaw falling in place when he saw I only dressed like a slapper when the postman called, he had grasped the nettle and begun taking his breakfast break outside, I thought he was going to begin sobbing so sad did his face become, relief flooding through my body as I realised that a few photographs and the odd sexual favour would save me from divorce and worse. More in relief than anything else I gently kissed the face of this would be blackmailer, he looked at me through his damp brown spaniel eyes as he realised I would play the game and would perhaps allow him some liberties. The hall clock struck 10 30, he looked as though he had been shot, he leapt up saying he was now late on his round, could he see me that afternoon as the round finished by about three and he felt we needed to talk again. I agreed and as he rose I remembered the pictures, scooping them up as his bulk again filled the kitchen doorway, he turned and shook his head, saying “no they are yours Christine”, and that he felt he had been wrong to try blackmail, but that he would be back. With that he left the room and the little place somehow empty now this huge insecure presence had left. Questions rapidly swirled round my fuddled brain, had I imagined it all? But no the pictures strewn across the table proved that, what had I let myself in for? Was he to be trusted? Instinctively I felt ...
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