Ben did not have long to wait. The first text he read was from Erika:
To Ben: – “Now I know what you see in me! It made me blush, but I love it! When will you see me next? Just like that!! C. will have to give me time off! E.”
As always, Erika left it to Christine to be straightforward. The time shown on their mails indicated that they were again texting side-by-side. Therefore, each knew instantaneously what the other said and what was meant by what was said.
Ben, of course, could only guess if Erika willingly allowed Christine to take the lead in their Threesome-sexting. Christine quite openly did! She, thereby, challenged both Erika as a bystander and Ben as responder:
To Ben: – “Congrats. Ben, they are beautiful, very sexy pics. E. can’t stop blushing. I’m jealous. How could a selfie of me, even naked in my slinky dress, match what you did for Erika? My dress alone would deserve a folio of shots! E. is bugging me for another afternoon off, and I can’t refuse because she will be on duty at the hotel all next weekend. I’ll be away with Gerd and ‘friends’ at our hunting shack. That could turn out to be fun! C.”
Christine’s text practically forced Ben into a follow-up text before he could reply to Erika:
To Christine: – “Glad you like and approve of how my Pad captured E.’s sexiness and beauty. No need to be jealous. I am more than willing to do equal justice to your favourite dress and the body it clings to. Set a time in the afternoon. I’m sure E. can hold the fort at the reception. Also, which afternoon will E. get her time off, Boss? I am delighted that you decided to join Gerd and ‘friend’ for their outing this weekend. B.”
To Ben: – “Accept your selfless offer. Will tomorrow afternoon be too soon? Three o’clock? I want you still hot from photographing E.!! She, of course, may want this afternoon off for the same reason. Too bad, I’m the Boss: E. can have any afternoon after! Glad you are ‘delighted’ about my weekend away. I have plans!! C.”
Ben could have, at this stage, simply agreed to the time suggested by Christine and ended their exchange. It had delayed his response to Erika’s text. She could now feel, Ben was aware, that his interest shifted too much to Christine.
There was also the matter of Christine’s repeated sly references to the weekend away. Ben had not told Erika about Gerd’s invitation, and he did not know if Christine had told Erika that he was one of the ‘friends’ in Gerd’s party. If Erika did not know and he kept silent, he was betraying her. Therefore, Ben decided to put the cards on the table:
To Christine: – “Will see and photograph you in wished-for perfection tomorrow afternoon. An exciting prospect! Also, being one of the friends at Gerd’s party at the weekend away, your ‘plans’ raise more for me than just my interest!! Are you planning to seduce Gerd or one of his card-playing mates? If so, I am in suspense waiting for your decision. B.”
Ben followed it up immediately with his reply to Erika:
To Erika: – “Thrilled that you like the images of your sexy self. When will I see you again? ASAP, I hope? Don’t delay by practising your striptease in front of a mirror. Do it before me. It was raunchy, sexy perfection how you stripped for me before the photo shoot. I can’t wait for repeat!!! B.”
Now Ben wanted to catch Erika and Christine sitting together over their iPad. He decided to go down to the lounge for a pre-dinner drink. In the reception, he passed Erika, who today had somewhat delayed going home. She smiled at him with a blush as they wished each other a Good Evening. Erika then lowered her head and walked out the door.
When Ben looked towards the office, Christine grinned broadly and gave him a thumbs-up behind the glass. Now pleased and his mind put at ease, the pre-dinner drink had become a celebratory one for Ben.
The next day, Ben spent a few hours in the morning with his father. As before, they avoided mentioning Ben’s sister, who had, neither directly nor through his father, attempted to get in touch with him. And Ben had no intention of knocking on a door she had once before slammed in his face.
When he returned for lunch somewhat late, there were few guests left in the dining room. Erika waved the girl away to serve him. Over the three courses, there were accidental touches. With her voice discretely low, Erika asked Ben if she should take Thursday afternoon off.
When she leaned in to rearrange the perfect table-setting, her breast touched Ben’s cheek. There was a cheeky lilt in her voice as she enquired, “After this afternoon’s photo session with Christine, you may need a day of rest tomorrow. We’ll know tonight, won’t we, how exhausting this shoot turned out?”
Ben was delighted, and his mind put at ease by Erika’s lively, sexually explicit interest in and acceptance of his and Christine’s afternoon session. And her approval was not based on ignorance and innocent hope. She had experienced the sexual high of revealing all of herself. And she was eager to wait with Christine tonight to see what the afternoon pictures would tell.
Ben smiled. He suddenly realised that while Christine may take the lead in their being a Threesome, Erika infused it with extra spice. When Ben photographed her, she had done so with her mood-setting striptease before an image was captured. And now it was Erika that challenged him to dare all – just as he had done with her – in photographing Christine,
Christine arrived in Ben’s room wearing a dustcoat, carrying a bag. With a cheery hello and no sign of any nervousness, she explained the necessity for her disguise, “This is my cleaning get-up. I couldn’t be seen visiting a gentleman in his room in the dress underneath!”
As she put the bag on the desk and slipped out of the coat, she met Ben’s surprise by continuing, “And Gerd was hanging around. I could not risk him seeing me in the slinky dress. So, I put one on he had seen before.”
Christine giggled, “With his disinterest in me, I was sure he would not notice anything striking. How about you?”
Christine was in the same summer dress she had worn for their dinner outing with Ben’s father and Helen. Only now, there was no mantilla and no scarf over the dress’ deep décolletage. As Christine stood there and took out a pair of high-heels from the bag, she was back-lit by the afternoon sun streaming in through the window. And to Ben’s delight, the translucency of the dress left no shadows of bra or panties or doubts: Christine was naked underneath.
Christine sat down. This time, her legs were side-by-side. She changed into the high-heels without flashing her pussy as she had done in the car. She smiled up at Ben, who already had the iPad in his hand and said, “You know I love this dress. I’ve told you that I sometimes wear it on the terrace in summer, being naked underneath, just like now. It turns me on! Photograph me! I want to have pictures that show me how men see me when I do.”
When Christine wanted to get up, Ben moved in close to take a snap. His voice low and insistent, he said, “Stay in the chair and turn your face and body to follow me as I take the shots. Your dress is nicely loose and open at the top. Just turn and flash your sexy tits at me. You want to show them off, don’t you, and turn me on?”
Ben, taking shot after shot, moved around Christine. At times he was so close to her that he feared her excited breath would fog the Pad’s lens.
Christine leaned forward to make the low-cut neckline of her dress gap open. Then, glimpsing down on what she had exposed, Christine arched back. It pressed her pointy nipples against the sheerness of the cloth. Sometimes, her dress slipped from one shoulder, momentarily almost exposing one breast. As her eyes followed Ben, Christine’s face – smiling, pouting, challenging – expressed, like her writhing body, an openly lust-filled invitation for Ben to touch.
After about twenty or so images captured, Ben stopped. His breathing was as laboured as Christine’s. He asked her now to move into the open space in front of the window. From a now safer distance, Ben photographed Christine standing, turning, stretching. And all the shots of her from the front, the back, side-on were backlit from the sun streaming in the window. Ben, at this stage, hurried. He more sensed than knew that the pictures he took captured the romantic magic of Christine’s half-revealed body.
When Ben put the iPad on the desk, Christine was momentarily disappointed. But then she grinned and went to her bag. After taking out the dress, Christine held it against her body and caressingly stroked down its length. Then she said, “This is my slinky dress. I’ll change into it in the bathroom and make you wait! I want you to be as turned on for photographing me as I am for showing myself in this dress!”
When, eventually, the bathroom door opened and Christine stepped into the frame, she took Ben’s breath away. She had tied back her hair and put on a dark-red lipstick that accentuated her sensual lips. The dress, sleeveless and knee-length with slits up her thighs, clung skin-tight to her body.
The light-knit grey material had a silvery sheen. Its contrast with the warm flesh-tone of Christine’s face, arms and legs highlighted, sculpture-like, the perfection of her body. Her smallish, perfectly shaped breasts were crowned by pert, almost upwards pointing nipples. And her midriff and stomach, softly unwrinkled, curved into the sinuous marking of her pubic triangle and flowed into the outlined swell of her thighs.
As he took the first shots of Christine walking towards the window, Ben found his voice, “This dress is all you said and more. It’s not just slinky; it’s sinful! You are twice as naked as naked in it. You are, Christine, incredibly, disturbingly sexy! Are you sure you want me to record what it does to me?”
Christine had turned away as Ben talked while taking a shot of her back that captured the contours of her back and the dimpled swell of her ass. She looked back at him over her shoulder, just as he took another photo. With a voice, all husky from pent-up lust, Christine answered, “Just show me as sinful and sexy as you see me, Ben, in every picture you take. In this dress, with you, this is how I am and want to be!”
Ben did not reply, but his, to her visible, mounting arousal as he placed her for the shots – pensive at the window, then challengingly seductive pressed against the wall, revealingly perched on the desk – told Christine he had listened. And then, after twenty or so images, Ben directed Christine to the bed. His hand shook as he pointed.
After what she had said, Ben no longer suggested or asked. He turned on the overhead light and one of the bedside lamps in which he had replaced the globe with the bright spotlight globe he had bought. There were pillows strategically placed. In now fulfilled hope that Christine would agree, Ben had prepared for photographing her on the bed.
Christine had taken off her high heels and lain seductively back on the pillows. Ben had just decided that directing the spotlight at the wall behind the bed gave the best lighting effect. Christine, watching his preparations, broke into an excited laugh. When Ben began to tell her the scenario he wanted, she looked at him expectantly with a smile playing over her dark-red lips.
Ben, his voice low and strained, told her he wanted to make it a full-body repeat of what they had done at the beginning. She had then, Ben whispered, shamelessly turned him on by showing more and more of her lovely tits as he circled her taking photos. Now, spread out on the bed in this dress, she had so much more to show. And he wanted to be turned-on, irresistibly so, by all of her!
Ben paused. Leaning over Christine, he took the first two shots. Christine had closed her eyes. Her lips had parted, sucking in her quickening breath. Each one of them lifted her quivering, pointy-nippled breasts. Their sign encouraged Ben to drop any pretence that what they did was only make-believe. It was the first time he had touched her as, in a caressing move, he pulled and stroked Christine’s slipped-up dress, almost from her pubes again down to her knees.
With his voice hoarse with suppressed arousal, Ben said, “With every shot, Christine, I want you to offer me your body, offer me all that your dress promises. I must look at you on the iPad in my hands! But you, you want my eyes on you! And my hands not on the Pad, but all over the dress, slide in under to strip you naked! You have spread out on the bed to be touched and taken and – yes! – fucked! You knew as much when you bought this dress when you saw yourself in the mirror! I am the first lucky man who sees you in it. And now you want to know, don’t you, if its magic works!”
As he talked, Ben had started to photograph her. Christine had not flinched at the language he had never used with her before but immediately responded to its seduction. And Ben, with openly sexual intrusiveness, began to move around and hover over her with the Pad.
Christine’s face, her eyes, her burning-red lips remained turned to the moving lens and, wilfully and consciously, on the man behind. Her body was in constant movement. As the expression on her face changed through a range of emotions – from reluctance to flirtatious to pure lust and abandonment – her sinuously twisting and stretching body became an irresistible sensual offering. Ben, so tempted, took shot after shot of Christine’s lasciviously suggestive posing as she slid over the king-size bed.
She had abandoned all restraints. Her slithering about had pushed her skin-tight dress up her thighs. In the last shot Ben took, Christine’s dress had worked up past her groin. Stretched out and now with her forearm covering her eyes, she had turned her hip and her lusciously glistening pussy towards Ben.
It made him pause, long enough to regain the control not to continue with the erotically charged duel between him and Christine. Ben drew back from Christine’s tempting nearness. Standing over her spread out on the bed, with her dress in revealing disarray, Christine smiled up at him as he took the shot.
Turning away from being further seduced, Ben suggested to Christine taking several pictures that just showed her relaxing on the bed in her slinky dress. When this was done, Ben turned off the spotlight. Not finding words for what he felt was a cowardly ending, he walked to the desk and put down the iPad. He could hear Christine getting off the bed and going into the bathroom. She did not attempt to speak either.
When Christine emerged from the bathroom, she was again in her dustcoat. She walked up to the desk. Ben, trying to hide the turmoil of his emotions, was bent over his iPad pretending to select the best shots he had taken. Christine ended their awkwardness by putting her arms around Ben’s shoulder. With her face close to his, she looked down on the Pad’s screen.
It displayed one of the images taken at the beginning. Christine, her voice low, asked, “You will transfer four of your favourite pictures to our Pad later today, as you did with Erika’s shots, won’t you? But please, Ben, as a favour, don’t select any from the bed.”
Christine paused, pushing her face closer. Ben felt her excited breath on his ear as she murmured, “That part turned into something unexpected. I want to see all the pictures you took. But I want them just for myself and not on our shared Pad. Can you think of a solution? Tell me on Saturday.”
Christine picked up her bag and turned to leave. Stopping at the door, she looked back at Ben. Lowering her voice, she almost whispered, “The bed, it was extraordinary! For you too, wasn’t it? You do want to keep these pictures of me on your Pad, don’t you? To remember me.”
Ben set to work. Christine’s wish to keep their session on the bed and its results a secret between them put him in a quandary. In one way, he was pleased and flattered. In another, there was a twinge of guilt regarding Erika. The latter was not eased when he realised that he had taken almost three times as many shots of Christine as of Erika.
Leaving the photos of the bed session aside for a separate folio should have made the job of selecting the dozen or so best shots of Christine easier. What complicated the selection was that Christine had set him the unexpected task of capturing her beauty and sex appeal in two differently revealing dresses.
The originally agreed on purpose of the session was to photograph Christine in her favourite slinky dress. Wearing it transformed her into a woman that exuded a raw, unrestrained, for a male quite confronting, sexuality. While Christine was aware and strongly attracted to this aspect of her personality, she feared – while always tempted – to allow it to become her public persona. Ben realised that Christine, whether by choice or accident, had revealed all for him by posing in this dress. It was her confession. And she had asked him for his discretion and silence.
Ben assigned, therefore, all but four of the shots of Christine in this dress to the ones she had asked him to set aside for her alone. Except for the four, all the images he selected for possible transfer to Erika’s and Christine’s iPad were of the ones he had taken with her in the summer dress. The softness and barely diffusing transparency of the dress’ material lent, when backlit, a romantically soft sensuality to Christine’s beautiful nakedness underneath.
Shortly before five o’clock, Ben transferred the four images he had chosen to the sisters’ iPad. The first one captured Christine looking up. One arm seemed to be reaching for him. It spread the neckline-opening, and the picture showed the revealed contour of a beautiful breast. Two images were of Christine standing, one fronting him and the other half side-on. Backlit by the sun streaming through the window, nothing of Christine’s nakedness, softened by the cloth into pure beauty, remained hidden.
The last image Ben had chosen was the first he had taken of Christine in her favoured dress. She had just stepped out of the bathroom. She looked prepared to meet any challenge with her head lifted and her face, unsmiling, directed at him. The skin-tight material and its sheen emphasised the uplift of her breasts, the points of her nipples, the indenture of her navel, the curvature of her hips, and the mound of her pubis. Christine was all sexual woman, and she was on the prowl!
Ben did not have long to wait for an answer. He had deliberately not included a message with the photos. As he had expected, Erika had stayed with Christine for the downloads to arrive. She was first to text:
To Ben: – “It’s my turn to be jealous! My lanky kid-sister can’t possibly have become as beautiful and sexy as you made her? After her, do you still want to see me? The day after tomorrow? For a full afternoon??? E.”
To Erika: – “I love you being jealous. Yes, by God, C. is beautiful and sexy!! Yes! Yes! The day after tomorrow! Can’t wait!! B.”
Christine’s message quickly followed. It let him know that she had understood the hidden message in his selection of pictures:
To Ben: – “Love all four pictures. Also, that you picked three exhibiting my charms in my summer dress. They are rather sweet. Much more innocent than the fabulous slinky dress shot!! It proves that you are a romantic softie at heart (as well as a devil in seducing two, up to now, so innocent sisters!!??) C.”
*
The following day Ben again visited his father and Helen. He dropped in at the electrical store where he had bought the spotlight on his way back for lunch. This time he purchased a USB flash drive for the recording of Christine’s private photos.
It may, of course, not have been necessary for him to do so, but Ben did not know the extent of Christine’s computer literacy. Anyway, he intended to transfer the dress folio via the hotel’s business computer once he had put it together. From there, Christine could download it on the flash drive and view it, whenever she wished and had the privacy, on any computer without it leaving a record.
After lunch and some surreptitious flirting with Erika, Ben dropped in at Christine’s office. Looking up from her desk, she greeted him with a broad smile, a questioning look and silence. Ben, therefore, came straight to the point. Placing the flash drive on the desk in front of Christine, he said, “I am going to put your private folio together this afternoon. Whenever you are alone in the office this evening, please send me a message from your computer. Then I’ll transfer the pictures, and you can download them immediately on this flash drive. They’ll be safe there!”
Christine needed no further explanation about the why and how of Ben’ suggestion. She picked up the tiny drive delicately between two fingers, grinned at Ben, and said, “They better be! We were rather naughty in taking these shots. We were out of control! At least, I was, spread out on the bed! I wish I could be with you when you make the selection.”
“Don’t you trust me to get it right?”
“You could be too bashful in the ones you delete, not wanting to shock me with the ones you think too naughty. And I may especially want those!”
“Alright. I’ll delete only the unclear ones. Thinking back, I am sure I must have been shaking on taking some of these pictures! If I give you all that are sharp, you can delete the ones you don’t like on the flash drive yourself.”
They agreed. Christine, not hiding her eager anticipation, would message him sometime after dinner. Ben, with both some trepidation as well as excitement, sat down over his iPad. He had taken fifty-six shots of Christine in her sinful dress. Despite what he had promised, he would make a rigorous selection.
Ben started by deleting all pictures where his hand had not been steady, or the focus and light had not centred on or complemented Christine. It seemed the easiest of the selection tasks. However, there was one image where his hand had shaken, and the picture’s deletion filled him with regret.
It showed Christine, lying on her side, the upper body raised on her elbow, leaning back, and smiling up at him. Her body was invitingly sensual, from her legs up over an exposed buttock to the perkiness of her breasts. It combined and yet contrasted with the loving tenderness with which Christine had smiled up at him.
Ben remembered the moment of taking this picture and how it made him feel. After a flurry of shots – which he had now before him all sharp and crystal clear – of Christine twisting and slithering in an almost orgiastic abandon over the bed, Ben had stopped shooting. Both he and Christine needed to regain a level of composure. When Ben was calm enough to continue, standing close to the bed, he pointed the iPad down on Christine. And she had half-raised herself from her – almost – post-coital stupor. She had smiled up at him.
The love he read in her face, her bliss about what had just happened between them, had made him shake. Now he was left with a blurry record of a meaningful moment. Ben deleted it, together with fifteen or so other shaky attempts.
Christine had practically forbidden him to delete or withhold from her any images that he might have thought too raw and sexually explicit. All he had to do was eliminate the comparatively bland and repetitive images from the assortment, regardless of their pictorial perfection. He finished up with shots, each so distinctive that Ben would not have surrendered one to oblivion.
In looking at the pictures in the sequence he had left them on his iPad, Ben suddenly realised that they formed a story. The first eight depicted Christine’s statuesque beauty as a powerful, almost intimidating presence. In all of them, she was upright, unsmiling, but neither frowning nor pouting as she looked at him. The skin-tight fabric of her dress accentuated every contour and swell of her body. It was sinuously alive but, in its perfection, almost like cast in silver. Christine’s beauty and sexual appeal were striking in these photos, beyond the pretensions of glamour or professional porn.
In the following fourteen images, central to the story, Christine was on the bed. The statuesque temptress had become seductively alive! She was unreservedly responding and focused on Ben, and thereby on the lens which captured her expressions and movements.
And Christine was unbridled in the display of her sexual desire. Every fibre of her twisting, stretching body and her lust-filled, at times distorted face expressed her hunger to possess her evasive lover as much as to provoke him into possessing her. Christine’s dress continued to accentuate the sexy allure of her body in the sinuous contortions of her lovemaking.
But in the shame-free daring of her sexual needs on the bed, Christine seemed no longer aware of her dress. In some of the pictures, the skin-tight material had slid up as far as her belly. But it was not the coquettish flashing of ass and pubes to add to her breasts and nipples arching under her dress. To her, a strong, beautiful woman, unafraid in her uncurbed lust, the degree of her nakedness had ceased to matter.
If Ben had been prudish or less assured about Christine’s attitude to her sexuality, he would have deleted most of the fourteen pictures. But to him, Christine in every one of the images was breathtakingly beautiful and desirable, and he hoped that she would see herself in them as he saw her.
In the concluding five shots, Christine was still on the bed but now at ease. She was resting on and between the pillows, with her body in different positions. They were still arousingly sexy photos. The alluring swell and contours of Christine’s nakedness underneath her dress were strikingly in view. But the dress clung now, orderly, skin-tight, to her body between neck and knee. Only in two, with the beginning of a questioning smile, was Christine looking directly at him. In the remaining, she looked down on her body in a somewhat questioning mood,
Ben felt a twinge of guilt as they were the last in an unaltered sequence of shots taken. Had he been manipulative? Had he, after triggering the orgiastic storm so central to the storyline, wanted to conclude their session with more than a touch of post-copulatory sadness in the concluding images? But then he remembered the shaky photo he had to delete. It was the missing link that would have told a truth that the surviving pensive three did not.
After dinner, Ben passed by the reception office without going in. He did not want to talk to Christine before she had seen the folio he had prepared. Christine was at her desk. She pointed at the computer, and they smiled at each other through the glass. Ben, back in his room, saw that her mail with the computer’s address had arrived.
His reply, to which he appended the desired download, read:
To My Not So Coy Mistress: – “This is what my iPad ‘spied’ on yesterday’s magic afternoon. Will you condemn me for loving every one of the images it captured? B.”
To Ben: – “Thanks. Photos are now safe on my USB drive. Can’t look at them now; it’s still too busy down here. Am dying to see them! Forgive you in advance for every sin we may have committed! Love, C.”
After a few drinks and trying to concentrate on his reading, Ben knew there would be no reply from Christine tonight. He went to bed and struggled to fall, eventually, asleep.
