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Sex Story

The email message with the JPEG attachment was addressed only to me, not to Yvonne's usual list of joke and story recipients, not to my wife and me, just to me alone. That was a little unusual. The message was a bit cryptic: "Can you enhance some of the features you find attractive?"

Well, the file had passed through the virus check and intrusion detector, so I decided to open it. When opened, the file revealed Yvonne in a beautiful, full-length evening gown. It was not at all revealing, but it still aroused me. I find women dressed in evening gowns are frequently more sexy that women wearing next to nothing. Yvonne's photo was no exception.

I am a professional photographer. I do technical photography, mostly for industrial trade journals. For today's publications, digital editing is an important skill for a good photographer. Nearly all photographs taken for publication can benefit from enhancement. Sometimes it's done by taking out unwanted reflections, sometimes by removing or fuzzing distracting backgrounds, and sometimes by just improving the brightness or contrast or color balance. I have never done glamour photography or editing, but one or two ladies I know have sent photos asking me to jazz them up for their boyfriends and husbands.

But Yvonne's request didn't specifically tell me what she wanted done. Because she is a good friend whom I didn't want to risk offending or embarrassing, I decided to ask her for a little more guidance.

Her emailed response was little help: "Use your imagination!"

Well, that certainly cleared up nothing.

My first effort was simple and modest. I gave her a slightly narrower waist that accentuated her nicely rounded breasts. Narrowing her waist made them appear to protrude more. Then I inserted a narrow but obvious slit up the side of her left leg. It was nothing too risqué, just a little thigh. I figured she might even object to that, so I emailed the edited picture back to her.

Her reply: "Show more skin...a lot more!"

My reply: "How much more?"

Her reply: "Enough to make a man want to fuck me silly!"

Okay. A little background about Yvonne might help explain why she would make such a request from me.

My wife, Denise, and I got to know Yvonne and her husband, Dave, in community theatre in Portland. That was almost ten years ago. Both Yvonne and Dave were actors. Yvonne is also a talented dancer and choreographer. In some community theatres, the actors have egos that would make one think they were stars on Broadway rather than in the converted grocery store that served as our playhouse. Fortunately, everyone got along well in our group whether they were cast or crew.

Because we were all so close, it shocked us when Yvonne and Dave separated and then divorced. Part of the problem was that Yvonne had a very high-paying job that required her to travel frequently and be gone for weeks at a time. My wife blamed Yvonne for the divorce and began to avoid any contact with her. I knew that both Dave and Yvonne shared the responsibility for their break-up. We continued to see Dave and Yvonne socially, though separately. Denise did not disguise her desire to avoid Yvonne entirely. I felt that we should support them both but not favor one over the other.

Though my wife is younger than Yvonne and is very attractive, I think she was somewhat jealous of Yvonne. Maybe jealous is too strong. She may have just been a little envious. Yvonne is better educated, well-traveled, and very outgoing. She is 44 years old, but her years of disciplined dance training have kept her body in excellent condition. Her legs are clearly dancer's legs, beautifully tapered and smoothly muscular, and they make her appear taller than her 5'-06".

I continued to correspond via email with both Dave and Yvonne. Denise knew about the email contact, but she had little interest in email or even in the computer for that matter. In time, Dave's correspondence dropped off as well.

About two years after Dave and Yvonne's divorce, Denise and I left Portland and moved to Chicago. I continued my occasional email correspondence with Yvonne. Our exchanges were nearly always little more than the usual internet jokes and stories. Gradually, though, I noticed that Yvonne's stories were getting rather racy, sometimes sexually explicit. I thought little of it since there were always multiple addressees on her emails. I was just another one of them. Several times each year I would travel back to Portland on business, and if either Dave or Yvonne were available, I'd get together with one of them for dinner.

So receiving Yvonne's request, though a little unusual, was not exactly shocking or startling. I assumed she had a boyfriend or girlfriend whom she was trying to impress, and she trusted me a digitally manipulate her very lovely body.

I decided that my best approach would be to prepare not just one but a series of altered images, each one showing a little more of Yvonne and a little less of the dress. Call it a digital strip tease. Then she could pick the one she liked the best. Since I had never seen Yvonne in anything more revealing than tight jeans or a dress, I had to speculate on what was hidden beneath her clothes.

The first photo in the series was the one she had originally sent. Each successive photo digitally removed more and more of the dress. After twelve hours of very careful and painstaking editing, Yvonne was completely naked and exposed. I must admit being both proud and aroused by my own digital handiwork. I had tried to digitally enhance, and in some ways recreate, what I thought to be Yvonne's natural beauty.

Yes, I took creative liberties with her physical features. They were driven by my sexual fantasies of Yvonne and me together. Hey, since she wasn't paying me, I figured that I was entitled! And that's exactly what I told her in the message that accompanied the edited photo attachments. If nothing else, I thought she'd probably get a laugh out of that.

I received no messages from Yvonne for nearly two weeks. That didn't surprise me, though, because of her travel schedule. When her messages resumed, they said nothing about the photos, so I asked if she had received them. Her next message said she had, but she made no comment. No "Thank you," no "Go to hell,"nothing. I concluded that I may have angered her by going a wee bit too far in removing all her clothing. Yet, her email messages with jokes and stories continued.

About two months after sending the photos, I needed to travel back to Portland for a business meeting. I mentioned this in an email to Yvonne. She responded by suggesting we get together for dinner. By that time I had forgotten about her photo spread.

After completing my business in Portland, I called Yvonne. We made small talk on the phone, and then she asked if I would be available to join her for dinner. I gratefully accepted. She said to call for her at 5:30 p.m. the following night. We would have a cocktail and then go to dinner.

Promptly at 5:30 I rang her doorbell. She answered, dressed in a long sleeve shirt and blue jeans. After giving me a friendly hug in the doorway, she invited me in. She explained that she was running a bit behind. She pointed me toward the breakfast bar between the kitchen and dining room and said to fix myself a drink while she got dressed. I poured myself a glass of wine and then began to admire her growing library. I was so engrossed that I didn't hear her come back downstairs.

"Are you ready?" I heard her voice behind me ask.

I turned...and almost dropped my glass of wine.

She was dressed all right. She was wearing a stunning and very revealing black gown. It was very low-cut and so tight across her breasts that I could clearly see her nipples pushing against the thin fabric. It was completely open up the left side with both the front and back panels held together by narrow clips. The wide gap in the side clearly showed that she could not possibly be wearing anything underneath the dress. Her three-inch spike heels and the gown's tightness created a picture worthy of a fashion magazine.

She was smiling very seductively.

"Do you recognize the dress?"

I mumbled something that must have been a "No", I really don't remember.

"You should. This was number nine in the pictures you sent. In a sense, you designed this gown."

Her eyes traveled down my own body to the erection clearly making an appearance under my slacks. She smiled appreciatively at my reaction.

"Do you remember why I asked you for the pictures? I said I wanted a picture that would make a man want to fuck me silly."

I did remember. Trying to recover from the shock of seeing her in this incredibly erotic and revealing gown, I asked feebly, "Well, did it work?"

She began to walk slowly and provocatively toward me, her entire body exuding sexual seduction with each step, each sway of her hips. As she reached me, she put her arms around my neck and said, "I'll tell you tomorrow."

My mind numbed and blurred as it was overcome by sexual desire. I put my arms around her bare back and pulled her to me. We began to kiss each other, both vocalizing our lust and passion. Our tongues sought each other, probing for those sensations that would take us to further heights of arousal. I began kissing and biting her ear, then down to her neck. Her heavy breathing turned to a growl and then to a moan when my tongue tingled across her upper chest to her other ear.

I had slid one hand down the bareness of her back, then forced it down inside the back of the very tight dress to her ass now, pulling her to me, grinding my erection against her. I kneaded her bare ass cheek with my hand, first one cheek then the other. My fingers lingered in the crack between her cheeks, then one finger lightly touched her asshole. She screamed loudly as my finger gently probed but did not enter her, and she brought her open mouth down onto mine in a savage, penetrating kiss. Yvonne was breathing harder now, and she moved her mouth to my shoulder, sinking her teeth in with just enough pressure to cause my arousal to be heightened by a twinge of sexual pain. Her hands began pulling my shirt out of my trousers. Then, with one swift motion, she grabbed the front of my shirt with both hands and tore it open.

I cried out in intense pleasure when Yvonne began to kiss my chest, then bite my nipples, gently at first, then harder, then much harder. But the pain was so exquisite. It seemed so connected to my hardness. She dropped to her knees which caused my hands to travel up her back and come to rest tangled in her beautiful brown hair. She did not unfasten my trousers. Instead, she began to use her teeth to bite gently and scrape all around and all over my erection. I could feel her heat and the wetness from her mouth seeping through. Again I moaned and cried out, first her name, over and over again, then just murmurs and moans. My hands drew her head harder against me in a quest for satisfaction, but she pushed away. She deftly unfastened my belt and unzipped my slacks. Then she moved slightly away and looked up at me with a wild look in her eyes, a look of ferocious lust. As she did, she pulled down my trousers and shorts around my ankles, allowing my hard, erect cock to point directly at her face.

Her hands began to caress all around my manhood, pulling at my pubic hair, scraping beneath my sac with her fingernails, massaging my erection. She was both gentle and forceful, inflicting pleasure punctuated with momentary flashes of enticing pain. The effect staggered me. While her hands worked their magic on me, I pulled off the remnants of my shirt, kicked off my Topsiders, and stepped out naked and exposed to face her. She ran her tongue from the base of my cock to its tip, then around, then down again...and again the same. I could feel the muscles throughout my body tense under the roughness of her tongue. I felt her lips surround my tip, then they seemed to climb my cock as she drew me into her mouth. Her saliva lubricated me and felt like burning oil on my shaft. As she slowly sucked and moved her mouth over me, every nerve ending in my body felt as if it were having an orgasm. I wanted to both hold back and yet explode in her. She sensed that I was close and her sucking subsided.

Yvonne began to run her hands and her lips all over my body. My legs, my ass, my chest, my shoulders and neck, and finally back to my lips. She was grinding her body against mine so hard that she seemed to be trying to use my body to scrape the gown from hers.

She had positioned herself so that my naked leg had worked its way through the slit in her dress, and my hairy thigh was pressing against her pussy. I could feel the roughness of her hair, the heat and wetness of her pussy against my leg as she ground it up and down on my leg. All they while, our mouths clamored for the sole possession of the other. Our arms moved over each other's body to try and find a more sexually stimulating grasp. With each slow grind, she uttered sounds incredibly sexually stimulating to me. I began to tell her how much I wanted, needed to fuck her, how I had to be inside her. Her words, telling me how much she had wanted me for so long, how she had fantasized about my cock, how she finger-fucked herself to orgasm at night in bed wishing that it were me...all of these were driving me carnally insane.

I began to unfasten each side clip starting with the top one, then throwing it aside and going to the next, then the next. Each clip's forced departure exposed more and more of Yvonne's upper torso as she continued to thrust and grind against me. Finally, all the side clips were gone. I reached up and unfastened the clip on a shoulder strap and threw it aside. With my other hand I grabbed the dress and pulled it to the side. Our bodies were still touching, and the feeling of the fabric being pulled from between was powerful.

Now our fully naked bodies were touching. The breasts I had never seen pressed hard against my chest. I felt their hard, erect nipples being rubbed across me while Yvonne cried out for me to go on. I felt their warm fullness between us. I felt her bush against mine and against my cock. She continued to ride up and down on my thigh while my hands cupped her ass cheeks again. I kneaded her as while my lips and mouth feasted on Yvonne's gorgeous full breasts. I felt the slicing scratch of her fingernails into my back as she came closer and closer to climax. She screamed my name, screamed for me to fuck her.

With all my strength, I cupped her ass cheeks and lifted her so that her pussy was on my abdomen. She wrapped her legs around me as we continued to kiss passionately, deeply. Wet kisses flooded with sounds of our innermost lust for each other. I carried her into her bedroom and lowered her onto her bed.

We were both past foreplay now. Our need to consume each other sexually was near. Yet I needed to taste her beautiful pussy as much as I wanted to fuck it. I forced her legs apart and covered her with my mouth. The taste was overpowering, and I was instantly drunk with sexual desire. As my tongue rambled all over her pussy, then into it, then over her clit and back inside her again, she writhed, rolled on the bed, bucked her hips, all trying to both escape from the assault from my mouth while at the same time draw it into her. Her arms flailed on the bed, grasping at the covers and tearing them aside. Her head thrashed violently as her back arched. I felt her dancer's muscular thighs tighten around my head. I continued to eat her, to devour her, to make love to her with my mouth. Her entire body seemed to be flying on top of the bed.

I felt her fingers tighten in my hair as she forced her own legs to release the deliciously exotic grip they had on my head. She pulled on my hair to pull my face out of her pussy and to pull it toward her own.

I heard her scream out for me to fuck her, and I drove my shaft into her wet and waiting pussy. Once again, I felt the vise-like grip of her legs around me, this time around my torso. She met each of my thrusts with one in kind, faster and faster, each more intense and forceful than the last. All the while we were using our mouths to find any available place to inflict more passion on each other. I began to feel a warm wetness on my back and realized that in her passion, she had drawn blood with her fingernails. I didn't care. Faster and faster our bodies crashed together in an orgasmic crescendo. I was trying to hold back, but I began to feel an uncontrollable explosion building inside. I could feel her vaginal muscles beginning their contractions with greater and greater frequency and intensity.

As if on cue, we were both simultaneously consumed by colors and lights and sounds as we came together. Harder and harder we thrust, both trying to milk every moment of ecstasy from our orgasms. Our cries began to subside first, then our thrusts slowed to a slower and slower pace. I could still feel her warm wetness surrounding me. Our bodies were wet with the lubrication of our sex and perspiration. We both began to gasp for breath, realizing that all of our energy had been focused on our orgasms. And finally, I collapsed on top of her, sighing, breathing contentedly, savoring our passion and intimacy.

We lay there, together, for a while, both trying to regain our strength.

When I finally spoke, I asked, "Well, have you been fucked silly?"

She took my hands in hers and began to move them together over her body.

"Ummm. Not yet, but ask me again tomorrow morning."