Pictures speak a thousand words

April 27, 2005 | Category: Photography, Sexblogs

Can a single photograph capture - even shape - the essence of your desires?

 

Have you ever looked at an image, and found yourself engrossed, fixated, obsessed? Ever had that image guide and shape your fantasies, become the focal point for a particular need or desire, the cell around which all others coalesce?

I have.

It’s happened to me on a few occasions now. The Internet has a lot to answer for. But I found that first image the old fashioned way, thumbing through the pulped pages of a magazine of titillating stories and images. As a book, there was nothing particular about it to differentiate it from its brethren.

Except for one photograph.

Care to see it?

Seduced by the boss

Radical? Hardly. Daringly original? I don’t think so. Yet this image shocked my senses, turned some of my ideas about who I was, what I wanted, on their head.

Why?

What did I see? A woman clad in smart, feminine attire: blouse, skirt, stockings, suspender belt, high-heeled sling backs. A woman lying back across a desk while a man goes down on her. Nothing so unusual there. The ‘Net is awash with such imagery.

I’m trying to reconstruct the way I thought, the unique pattern that my neurones fired in. Her outfit. Smart. Businesslike. Dressed for the office. Is she a secretary, a personal assistant? And the man? Her managing director? There’s appeal for me there. I can feel it even now. The idea of the powerful, charismatic boss-man subverting and seducing the na�ve and vulnerable secretary.

What else? The nuances of her outfit, the smart business attire. The combination of tan stockings with white suspender belt. The fact that her panties are only partly down her thighs, just far enough to afford this man access to her sex. Are they in a rush? Is a meeting due to take place soon, or a conference call? Or did he have to struggle with slightly? Did he know that he only had to get her panties out of the way so that he could reach her naked cunt with his fingers and his tongue, confident that when he did, that once his tongue flicked across her clitoris for the first time, her struggles would cease? Because there’s that look of orgasmic abandon upon her face, the one that says that despite any protestations she might have felt, made, she wants this. She’s relishing it.

My imaginings strayed further. The secretary is a married woman. She has an adoring husband who she loves dearly. So why is she allowing this to happen? Because she has been seduced, not only by her boss, but by her own lust. She is sexually alive, powerful. She is aware.

She wants.

I was away from home for a prolonged period when I first saw this photo, and it quickly became the basis for many of my sessions of self-abuse. But it was only on the fateful day that I imagined that the secretary was my own wife that the image’s full impact was realised, that I was forced to confront truths about myself I found hard to accept at first.

I began to incorporate myself into the fantasies. At first, I’d been an anonymous, formless voyeur. Now I was calling at the office to pick my wife up from work. No one else in the place. Some muffled noises coming from up ahead. I’d walk quietly up to her bosses’ office, look in through the half-open door to see MW lying across his desk, skirt bunched up to her waist, white panties tugged down to the tops of her tan stockings, a look of sheer pleasure on her face as her boss ran his tongue across her cunt. My wife’s cunt. Her eager cunt.

Occasionally, I’d push the door wide open and walk in; join them for a dripping, lust-fuelled 2v1. But most of the time, I preferred just to watch. Watch as his tongue brought her to orgasm again and again; watch as the arrogant bastard rubbed his cockhead across her screaming clitoris, stroked the underside of his shaft between her swollen labia, and then eased his hard cock inside her wet, willing cunt…

Today, my desires are far, far different to those of the person who first glanced at that single, nameless photograph. Good or bad? The jury might still be out. But I’ll go on playing with the hand I was dealt that fateful day.

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2 Comments

  1. chelsea girl on October 14th, 2005
    1

    I remember you, I remember this from another, now defunct, website…no?

    Amazing, really. I loved this post the first time I saw it and I love it again now. I also love the one that follows this–your description of watching your wife make love with another woman.

    How delightful for everyone.

    Originally, ‘Easily Aroused’ was hosted over at Indecent Blogging, which is where this post first appeared. Quite a few people commented on it, but when IB went down, all of the comments for this post (and others!) were lost. But thanks for commenting here and stopping the post from looking so…pathetically abandoned! I’d guess the post that describes MW’s first love-making experience with another woman would be First Steps. It’s lovely to hear that you enjoyed them both so much…

    ~EA

  2. Destiny on June 16th, 2008
    2

    i enjoyed this post very much. it’s a lot to think about. i understand what you mean when you talk about seeing so much in a picture. just the other day i saw a photograph hanging on a wall i pass by every day. i’d never given it much thought before. then, on that particular day, for one reason or another, i happened to linger at it. i now find myself looking more closely at things: how people walk, talk, behave, interact. i wonder what they’re thinking.

    i’m sorry to see that your other readers didn’t find this post more intriguing.

    I think that’s because this post first appeared when EA was hosted on another site. That site’s server went down, and it took all the comments with it. But thanks for noticing it languishing in the depths of the archives…

    ~EA (apologies for the late response)

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