Five months into the Covid scare, suffering from cabin fever. What delights does television offer this rainy Sunday night? Well, not a lot. Is it just me, or are the broacasters taking advantage and shovelling out repeat after repeat? "Fancy a DVD?" Asked Hubby. We had a good collection, we had seen them all at least once, but it would be our choice, not the programme schedulers. I said yes. "What do you fancy?" He asked. "I dont know, surprise me." "Family album 1992?" Goodness, that was going back a bit. I remember it well, but I had forgotten that we still had the pictures. "Why not?" I said. "You'd better open a bottle. And bring the tissues." This would almost certainly have a happy ending. The first picture appeared. Me. Me thirty years ago. Even I had difficulty in recognising me. I was heavily made up, false eyelashes and cocksucker red lipstick. I was wearing a white blouse with several buttons open revealing deep cleavage. This was the first time I had seen them on a sixty-inch 4k TV. They had been taken on film, digitised when digital had taken over, stored on DVD and forgotten. Until now. The player was on slideshow, running very slowly with smooth fades between images. All hands free. Allowing Hubby to have his hand resting high up on my thigh. He leaned over and kissed me. The first group were of me in the same clothes, but in various poses. The next group were of me in lingerie, group three, out of lingerie. i.e., without bra or knickers, just the obligatory stockings, suspender belt and high stilletto heels. Group four were nude. Here comes downer number one: They appear to be a striptease, but they were being shown in reverse order. I had started naked. If they had been photographed as a strip, I would have had marks where tight clothing had been pressing. Tricks of the trade. This set had formed my original modeling portfolio, there was no spread thigh stuff in this first set. But there was more to come. Hubby paused the player on a shot of me lifting up my tits, offering them to the camera. "Top up?" He said, offering the bottle. I held my glass for a refill. Hubby put the bottle down, kissed me again and pushed his hand down my dress, cupping a tit. "Get them out," he asked. "Lets see if they have improved with keeping." I obliged. Not bad. A bit saggy, I definitely need a bra these days, but not bad at all. "I was very fuckable back then." I said. "You're very fuckable right now," replied Hubby. "But shall we see the next set first?" He started the player and replaced his hand on my thigh, this time slipping his fingers up to my moist junction and into my cunt, but not quite on my sweet spot. The next set were the first of many that I had been paid for. Open thigh, sucking a banana, blouse accidentally slipped down to reveal a stiff nipple. Soft porn. They had apeared in the mens magazines of the time. Hubby had one eye on the screen, but was sucking the nipple nearest to him. His fingers found my clit and quickly brought me to a shuddering orgasm. He stopped the show, turned off the TV and said; "We'll finish that another time, there is something else needing attention." 'Something else' was tenting his pants. And I wanted it. By the time I slipped into bed alongside him, naked, gagging for it, my cunt was running wet. His cock was as hard as it gets, he was gently wanking. I took over. Very soon I slipped my lips over it. I wanted everything, I would happily have sucked him off and swallowed his spunk with gratitude, but I also wanted him inside me, relishing that exquisite moment when his cum floods me. But first, he wanted to lick me. Well that's alright too. He quickly brought me to my second orgasm, just with his mouth. Now I really wanted it. "Fuck me now, please." I begged. He mounted me, I guided his cock into my hungry cunt. Bliss. He started slow and deep, varying stroke speed and rhythm and I felt another come coming. Three? It was a long time since that had happened. It was the best of all. Pinned by his powerful and still fit body, all I could do was writhe in his strong arms, my cunt spasms milking his cock. I swear that I could feel it when his hot thick love pulsed into me. He rolled off panting. "We should look at family snaps more often." I husked, snuggling up to him. He laughed and was soon snoring gently. I could not sleep. I rolled onto my back and paddled my fingers in the cocktail of spunk and cunt-juice that oozed from my hole. Could I be really naughty and masturbate alongside him while he slept? He would be dissapointed, he liked to watch when I wanked, just as I like to watch him. My mind went back to the circumstances leading up to those pjctures being taken. We had married at the end of the Thatcher boom years, we were both in our early twenties, and had jobs in the city on obscene salaries. We were champagne swilling yuppies. We had a showy wedding and moved into a lovely house in the leafy suburbs, mortgaged to the hilt, furnished expensively, all on credit cards. What could possibly go wrong? Of course, it did. We both lost our jobs. We were in negative equity, selling the house would increase our debt. Hubby soon found another job, at a much lower salary. It just about serviced our debts. Our parents helped, but neither were exactly rich. We went through our meagre savings in no time. I needed a job. We knew others in a similar position, one day over coffee, I quipped that I was going to take in washing. Either that or sell my body. The friend said that she was going to take in a lodger. They had advertised and had plenty of takers. She could give me the list of potentials. I discussed it with Hubby. We had four bedrooms, ours was 'en-suite'. We could let two of the others, plus the main bathroom. We put a small sofa, plus a table and chair into one 'bedroom', as a private sitting room. We phoned the potentials. We chose Ian, a professional photographer from Tyneside, looking to make it big in London. He was easy to get on with, we liked him immediately. He spent many evenings with us, rather than in 'his' rooms. One evening I asked how his quest for fame was going. Surely this was a bad time, in a recession? He said that the recession was actually helping. He was a glamour photographer, many young women with no job prospects were turning to modelling. "Have you considered modelling? " He asked. "You're a very beautiful woman." I laughed, embarrassed. It would be silly to deny it, I knew that I was. It had plagued me. Many people don't believe that a woman can have beauty and brains, I had trouble getting people to take me seriously. I overcame it, partly, by dressing down, wearing minimal make-up, wearing my hair in a bun, wearing flat shoes and even wearing thick-rimmed spectacles. With plain glass, I did not need them other than for camouflage. Out for pleasure, and at home, I could let the real me show. Ian had recocnised this immediately. "Glamour?" I shrieked. "I hope to go back to proper work eventually, suppose people recognised me?" Ian had an answer; "By the time our makeup girl has finished, your own mother will not recognise you. Let me do a portfolio, what do you have to lose." Hubby just shrugged. The portfolio, and some of the raunchier stuff, had been shot in this very room, with Hubby present. And just like that, I had a new career. It should have come as no surprise that the raunchier the sessions, the better the pay. And raunchier meant porn. I never did video work, just stills. They were on that DVD downstairs, for future viewing and fuck-fodder. I had posed with some of the best, and by that I mean best-hung, studs in the business. But, and here comes downer number two, I had never been fucked by any of them. It is a matter of honour that studs can keep it up. If they come, they need time to recover, so what is known as 'stunt cocks' are used. I took it a step further. In the photo's, the cock in my cunt, in my mouth, in my arse, spurting spunk onto my face, into my mouth or over my spread genitals, was that of my own dear husband. At least for the close-ups. In long shots, it really is the stud's cock in my hand, between my tits and occasionally in my mouth. In the shots of me covered in cum, on my face, on my tits, on and oozing from my cunt or arse, the spunk is fake. On the few occasions when their face was visible, it is stud-spunk splashing onto me. But since my marriage, the only cock that has been in my cunt or arse, the only cock ever to shoot spunk into any of my three holes, is Hubby's. So, a virginal porn queen? Is it possible? It certainly was, perhaps no longer, who looks at stills? Is it any longer possible to buy girlie mags? Or hard-porn mags? Everything is digital, anyone with the inclination can be a pornstar. I had been playing with myself throughout my reminiscing, I decided that I would bring myself off. I had a small, tight, silent come. Lubricated with my husbands cum as he lay sleeping beside me. I masturbate often. I no longer work, Hubby now runs his own business which takes up a lot of his time and energy. The morgage has been paid off, we have no debts and a comfortable life. We never got round to having kids. So I am a lady who lunches. And wanks. I'm good at it. The next day, I decided to watch some more family snaps. The hardcore ones. I was a 'model' for about two years, it ended as abruptly as it had started. Ian had moved out, into his own studio with a tiny flat. The phone calls just stopped. It is that kind of industry, there is a need for fresh meat. Other girls were not as fussy about who spunked into them, it was inevitable that it would end. But it served its purpose and kept the debtors at bay. The pics kept rolling on the big, H.D. screen. They were horny. My fingers are fine, but I needed cock. Real cock, I've tried dildoes and vibrators, they don't do it for me. I love my husband, sex with him is, for me, the ultimate pleasure. But we have a problem, for a couple of years, I have wanted, no, needed, more than he can give. We had discussed, not exactly swinging, but finding a suitable couple for a swapping experiment. 'Suitable' has been the problem. Perhaps I could go back to 'modelling'. But this time, allow the studs to fuck me. What? You think that a fifty-something is past it? Listen Sonny, I could suck you inside out using any hole you chose, think of the practice I've had. Besides, there seems to be a strong demand for milf-porn. Hubby could film it while another man fucked me senseless. I could fulfil my fantasy of fucking two men simultaneously, D.P. Cock number two's partner could do the filming. And then she and I could fuck, that would me another first for me. Past it? No way. Now, which swingers site should I use?..