I’m sure you have all heard of the Butterfly Effect in Chaos Theory. How a small, inconsequential action can have huge effects. Well, our butterfly moment was my request for Mary to pose for some glamour style portraits as a birthday present for me. A seemingly innocuous request that had life-changing consequences.Up to that point, I had a wife I loved dearly, but who could only be described as being demure, prim, puritanical and Victorian in her outlook to sex. Now I have a wife I adore, who is a tsunami of hedonistic, wanton, perverted, dirty minded, debauched womanhood. Here’s how it happened.I was coming up to my fiftieth birthday, and Mary asked what I would like as a present. I thought about it for a while, and whilst having little hope of getting a yes, asked if she would pose for some professional glamour portraits.We had, like most couples these days, I would imagine, shot a few photos in the bedroom, on my phone, but I’m hardly a great photographer. In fact, I’m a useless photographer, so the results weren‘t stunning, or if I’m honest, sexy. It was a couple of years ago and it had been an uphill struggle to get Mary to pose.Even though it was only the two of us, it acutely embarrassed Mary and only once did I get her to take her bra off. No way would she pose for me without her knickers on. So I gave up asking.So, I was expecting a resounding no. I laid it on about it being a special birthday, being my fiftieth and all, and how I still thought she looked glamorous, and it would be super to have that preserved for the future in a photograph or two. I suppose that was enough of a lever to get her to actually discuss it and not ban the idea outright. She asked what exactly I had in mind, and not wanting to push my luck, I said just glamour shots, boudoir style, in some sexy lingerie.“I don’t have any sexy lingerie,” she replied. That was true. I can’t remember how many years it had been since I had seen her in anything lacy or sexy, if ever.“That’s not a problem,” I said, “we can go online and buy you something, or pop into town and look in the lingerie shops.”“No way am I wandering around a store buying that sort of underwear,” she said, “too embarrassing.”I’m not sure I agreed, but I didn’t argue the point, and it gives you an idea of how prudish she was (note the operative word was). I said we could look online together and choose something I liked and that she would wear. “I’ll think about it,” she retorted.Mary says:I didn’t consider myself a prude (although I’ve since realised that most people who knew me did) and I enjoyed the sex with Dan, sort of. I’d been brought up to believe sex was for procreation and to regard ‘sexy fun’ as ‘dirty.’Ha. If only Mother could see me now!Anyway, that night in bed I thought about it, and my mind went back to some Radio 4 programme I’d listened to some time back. About the changing behaviour of middle-aged women to sex, and how something fresh could brighten their lives. Our lives could certainly do with that.Had Mother been wrong then? Could sex be fun? A little doubt was sown in my mind.But doing ‘naughty’ things in bed? No, no, not Mary, at least, I didn’t think so. Anyway, I mulled it over. It was a special birthday, so I reluctantly agreed to do it.Amazingly Mary had said yes, so, before she had time to change her mind, I hit Google to find a photographer. It seemed not all of them would do boudoir shoots and some others sounded very seedy, but I eventually booked one who sounded pleasant and would hopefully put Mary at ease.Oh hell! What have I done? What was I thinking when I said yes? I Escort esat can’t do this. Take my clothes off in front of a stranger? I won’t even go topless on the beach. No, it wasn’t even fun doing them ourselves if I’m honest. I was, though, surprised to find myself, in some strange way, excited at the thought of posing in front of a stranger, but really? No way!Unfortunately, we could not fix an immediate date to do it, so it gave Mary time to get cold feet and she asked me to cancel. I was really disappointed, but phoned the photographer, Sam, to tell him. He was sympathetic and understood, but suggested that we still kept the appointment, as it involved my birthday, and Mary could just have a few portrait shots done. She could see if she felt comfortable in front of a camera and, if she wanted to, we could progress to some glamour shots. He assured us it could stop at the portrait shots or continue, entirely at our discretion.Another lengthy chat with Mary (I mentioned the bit about the possibility of it going beyond portraits, but didn’t labour the point) and she finally agreed, although I had little hope she would pose for anything remotely sexy.The day arrived. We had spent quite a lot of time online buying Mary lingerie. She kept saying, “But I’m not likely to be posing like that,” but I convinced her it was hardly wasted, as I enjoyed seeing her wearing it anyway, and she could have it as an early birthday present.Too right. I wasn’t posing wearing scanty underwear in front of a stranger. It was embarrassing enough when Dan tried to photograph me. I was stupid to say yes. I had by now convinced myself there was no way on God’s earth I would ever have the wish, or the courage, to strip off in front of another man.So, we arrived at Sam’s studio with Mary somewhat nervous, even though she was probably only going to have portraits taken. I think it showed how she hated just to be in front of a camera. Sam opened the door and ushered us in and it was reassuring, especially for Mary, that he had a very pleasant, easygoing attitude.He sat us down and got us a coffee, and we chatted for a while. I could see Mary relaxing and I was harbouring the hope she might, just might, pose in her lingerie. Secretly, I would have loved her to pose naked, and even in some porn style shots, but I thought that was just wishful thinking.After a while, Sam suggested they start. We had brought loads of clothes, as well as the underwear, but Sam suggested she pose as she was – in a sweater and jeans. She had spent ages doing her makeup that morning, and spent what I considered a fortune the previous day on her hair. But Sam thought, as it would only be head and shoulders, there was little point in changing and he usually found if models were dressed down, they felt less self-conscious.He did various poses with her standing and sitting, then sat her on a chair, elbows on knees, and hands under her chin. Given how Mary was leaning forward, and that the vee neck of her fairly loose fitting sweater was gaping open, she was revealing a great deal of cleavage (she is a C cup). Sam called me over to look at the picture on the back of the camera. “Wow, that’s sexy Mary. Come and have a look.”Sexy? What’s he talking about? I’m wearing a jumper and jeans. I went over to look at the image on the back of Sam’s camera. Christ, bloody man has got me so he’s looking down my top. I could even see the top of my bra. Bloody pervert. I’m not having this. But even as that thought went through my mind, I also noticed a strange tingle, definitely where etimesgut escort there shouldn’t be a tingle of any description.She looked and blushed, but I caught a glimpse in her eye that seemed to show she liked it.“Want to do more?” Sam asked.“More what?” retorted Mary.“Well, something a little more sexy, you brought some lingerie didn’t you?”“Well, yes. But I’m not a tart. You think that’s sexy? It’s bloody perverted. Looking down my top.”“Oh, come on, Mary,” I pleaded. “It’s only for me. No one else will ever know, and we aren’t getting younger. It would be incredible to have some glamorous images of you.”“Glamorous, OK. Porn no. All right?” After some hesitation, and further prompting, she relented, “OK, I’ll do it.” A very hesitant yes from Mary, and the suggestion she might change, started the most sexually charged afternoon (up to that point) of our lives.Did I just agree to having photographs taken in my underwear? I walked to the changing room like someone walking to the scaffold. I can’t tell you my mixed emotions. It was Dan’s fiftieth I was doing this for, I kept telling myself, so it’s a one-off. He’s been a loving husband, so perhaps I should do it for him, but can I? With every fibre tingling (Hang on. Every fibre? Yes. Why on earth should every fibre be tingling? I don’t want to do this. Do I? Something deep inside was saying I did.) I changed into what I hoped was the least revealing set of lingerie Dan and I (well, mainly Dan, I just vetoed some of what I regarded as the more revealing sets) had chosen online, put on a robe and went back out, shaking like a leaf.Mary came out of the changing room modestly covered with a dressing gown/ kimono type thing (not great at ladies’ fashions!) visibly shaking. On Sam’s suggestion, she started with some glamour shots, still in her robe. I wondered which lingerie set she had chosen, some being more revealing than others.I suspected it would be the least revealing, red set. The bra was quite lacy but a full cup, and not that see-through, whilst the knickers were a French style, with fairly tight legs and plenty of coverage. There was obviously a matching suspender belt and stockings to complete the outfit.To settle her down, Sam did a whole load of shots of her with the robe on, gradually getting her to let it open a little more. It was proving right to get a good professional to do this. He knew how to make models relax in front of the camera.At last, he suggested removing the kimono, and that proved me right about the underwear, although that was probably the last time that day I foresaw what would happen.Mary’s face was a strange mix of nervous anxiety and anticipation. Sam started her off in simple poses, as she was so stiff and self-conscious, and even I could see the photos would not be sexy, but Sam persevered, and slowly, I could see that my beloved wife was gradually getting in the mood, adopting various poses, with direction from Sam. After a while, he asked how comfortable she felt, and amazingly she nodded, saying she was OK, and it was actually quite fun!Great, I thought, I wonder what’s next.“Ok,” said Sam.“How do you feel about taking your bra off?” Now, probably, to a lot of you, that would not seem a big deal, but Mary had never even gone topless on a Mediterranean beach, when virtually every other woman was, so I wondered how she would react.Take my bra off? In front of a stranger? No way! Christ, it was nerve-racking enough standing here in my undies, anyway. That was my immediate reaction, but even as I was thinking it, I realised etlik escort bayan I was moistening up between my legs. What? No, I can’t be. Seriously? Am I finding this sexy? I reluctantly admitted to myself I was. I thought back to that radio programme. So, instead of saying no, I nodded and awaited Sam’s directions.“Ok,” he said seeing the fear on her face, “let’s go slowly. Turn your back on me, unclip your bra, take it off, then, when you are ready, turn round.”Ready? Ready? I thought. I’ll be frozen to the spot for eternity. The mixed feelings shooting through me were contradictory. My head was saying stop, get dressed, go home. My heart, or more accurately, my libido (amazing really, I didn’t think I had one) was saying YES show everything. (Yes, everything. My inner self was saying, grow up dear, be a REAL woman.) I turned my back on them and reached up behind myself, unclipping the two fasteners. I could hardly do it, I was shaking so much.I hunched my shoulders and shrugged the bra straps off, holding the cups in place over my breasts. I still wasn’t sure what I would do next, when out of nowhere, that thought re-entered my mind. I’m in my forties, not getting younger. If other Radio Four listeners can do it, so can I. What the hell. Dan was obviously supportive. Go for it. So I did. I took my hands off my breasts, let the bra fall to the ground, swivelled round on my heels, put my hands on my hips, adopted what I hoped was a sexy pose and pouted. Oh-My-God. At that point, I realised my knickers were getting soaked.I waited with bated breath. Her hands came behind her to unhook the two clasps, she hunched her shoulders and just let the bra fall to the floor. She stood like that, for a good few seconds, and I wondered if she would turn. But then she swivelled on her heels, putting her hands on her hips, shoulders back, pouted lips and with a blaze of sexuality in her eyes I’m not sure I’d ever seen before. She took her hands off her hips and squeezed her breasts, looking directly into my eyes. God, if it made her feel half as horny as it made me feel, she was definitely enjoying it.Sam continued to shoot, giving instructions, and making the poses ever so slightly more provocative all the time, although either Mary didn’t realise, or did, and was content to go with it.“How about losing the knickers?” Sam suddenly asked.I expected a flat refusal but instead heard Mary huskily reply, “Why not? In for a penny, in for a pound.”With that, she pushed her thumbs under the waist of her knickers, pushed them down, and stepped out of them, screwing them up into a ball, and throwing them to me and blowing me a kiss. I really couldn’t believe this. My wife, standing stark naked, in front of another man and appearing to enjoy it. God, it was making me horny.Sam got her to pose sitting in the big armchair and then asked her to throw her legs over the arms. I really, really didn’t think she’d do that, but with hardly a moment’s hesitation, she followed his instructions and didn’t even bother to cover herself with her hands.Shit. My wife, exposing herself provocatively to another man. A dream come true.The next fifteen minutes were a blur. I really can’t remember much, it was like being drunk. I was intoxicated with the sexually charged feeling coursing through me. Totally unknown, I’d never experienced a feeling like it, but boy, was I enjoying it!Like coming out of a dream, I suddenly came back to reality when I realised I was stark naked, apart from my stockings and suspenders, and had my legs as wide apart as possible, with Sam, and his camera, literally inches away, shooting for all he was worth. This should have been the time when I came to my senses and rushed back to the changing room to cover up, but that was the old Mary. The Mary of a couple of hours ago. Now I wanted, and needed, this experience to continue and intensify.