The Day I Posed for Explicit Pictures as his Centrefold

Making our fantasy of being the pin-up girl in a lads’ magazine, come true…

When I was in my twenties, my boyfriend and I regularly consumed ‘men’s magazines’. These glossy publications were filled with soft porn in the form of pictures of naked girls’ and saucy short stories, and reading them and admiring the pictures was something we found very exciting.

We made plans to take our little fantasy one step further. I did not want to drop off a film of explicit pictures of myself at my local chemist for developing, so we decided to use a Polaroid Instamatic camera. It took photographs that would develop instantly, so we could even re-take shots if we weren’t happy with the results.

• Plenty of colour film and flash cartridges for the camera : check
• House to ourselves for a whole day : check
• My legs shaved : check
• Selection of sexy undies in my bag : check
• Mission ‘Centrefold’ was a go!

When the day came, I felt a mixture of nerves and excitement. We had studied different successful pictures and were pretty sure that we could do better, for starters I was a lot younger than most of the usual entrants. We stripped off the bedding, down to the white bottom sheet and pillows (it always looked tacky if there were frilly cushions or curtains in the shot).

I began to change, taking off my jacket and kicking off my shoes, but my boyfriend stopped me there. He suggested I remove only my knickers so the first picture would be me lifting my skirt and revealing a bare pussy. This wasn’t what I’d imagined, but hey it was just the first picture, so I slipped out of my panties, replaced my stilettos, and climbed onto the bed.

I posed, leaning back on my elbows. To tease him I tugged my full skirt up slowly, gradually revealing my cunt lips. I was delighted he let out a deep breath of appreciation, it gave my confidence a massive boost. He told me to raise one knee, then I let the other leg fall so that my kitty spread open. My boyfriend pressed the camera’s button, and with a flash and whir, he took our first picture. We waited for the image to develop. And there I was, captured as a saucy girl.

Putting the Polaroid aside I slid off the bed, stepped out of my shoes, reaching to unzip my skirt. My boyfriend suddenly took me in his arms and kissed me, long and slow. My skirt dropped and pooled around my bare feet.

He nibbled at my neck and ear and whispered, “why don’t I shave you?”

My heart beat very fast, and I felt nervous, but he was very persuasive. Soon I was standing in the bath while he used the shower head, wetting my pussy and lathering my bush with a bar of soap. The process could have been arousing, but I was too scared about getting cut to be turned on.

He stood close to me, outside the bath, and drew the disposable razor down my mound. Once he’d shaved a clean stripe, there was no going back! He was quick and matter of fact about it, with my foot up on the side of the bath, he could access the ‘undercarriage’ part of me. He shaved up to the lips, holding my skin taut with his other hand. Using the shower head, he rinsed me, washing soap and trimmed hairs down the drain.

Now my pussy was naked and I was shocked how different it looked.

“Don’t you think it looks like a little girl’s?” I asked in a hushed whisper.

“That’s what makes it so hot,” he replied with a wink. “But not too much like a girl’s, because you have a woman’s body.”

I was slightly reassured by his words. He fondled my breasts and used a towel to pat me dry. We returned to the bedroom and I removed the rest of my clothes, before slipping on my latest acquisition, a black, wet-look g-string. Habit made me reach down to tuck my curls behind the triangle of fabric, but now there was no need. When my fingers met the smoothness of my newly shaved skin and a tingle went through me. I was thrilled at the increased sensitivity.

I placed my toe in my sheer black stockings, rolling and smoothing them up my legs. My boyfriend stood behind me, cupping my bare buttocks with his hands as I rubbed up against him like a kitten. I fastened the garter belt and used the suspenders to hold the stockings in place. I felt his boner through his jeans which I reached behind myself to rub lazily. He ground against me. I located a black bra and captured my breasts within the lace & mesh cups before stretching the back strap round so that he could fasten it for me.

“You look so fucking horny!” he said, a rasp of desire in his voice.

I bore a secretive expression as I eased myself onto the bed, no shoes this time. I put the soles of my feet together, letting both my knees drop out, so my legs spread wide. My boyfriend took a picture and placed it on the side to develop. My bra strap slipped off one shoulder and with two fingers I pulled the triangle of the g-string to the side, so my bare mound was exposed and the elastic of the thong slid between my pussy lips.

“That’s good!” he exclaimed, snapping another shot.

“It’s meant to be bad!” I laughed.

I turned my back towards him, then tilted my buttocks like I wanted to be spanked, whilst trying to convey that message in my facial expression. I heard two pictures taken in quick succession.

“It’s bad alright!” he chuckled and stroked both my arse cheeks, making me feel quite heated.

I hopped off the bed before either of us could get carried away — I couldn’t be wet in these pictures. Instead I went to my holdall and rummaged around for another set of undies. These were pale lilac, trimmed with white lace, to give me an innocent look. As much as I could look innocent with my legs spread and a ‘fuck me!’ attitude.

While I was unclipping the black stockings and drawing them down my legs, my boyfriend checked the pictures he’d already taken. He held them up to me as I switched lingerie. I was impressed - I looked relaxed and believable in the role of temptress.

The pictures were hot, easily as good as others submitted to “Readers’ Wives”.

“That’s my favourite!”

He tapped the picture where my shaven haven could be glimpsed as I dragged the thong to one side.

“I’ll bet it is!” I smirked. “How long have you been wanting to shave me? That was a surprise.”

As I talked, I shimmied a satin suspender belt over my hips, this one worn lower on my hips than the first. I’d chosen white stockings with a bow motif to wear, because I rather liked the virginal effect. On my pale skin, the stockings looked a lilac colour.

My boyfriend gave a low whistle before he replied.

“I thought it would make you stand out, give you something different from the other wives and girlfriends.”

I nodded, it made sense.

Instead of a lilac bra to match this set, I’d purchased a white “Gossard Glossy,” a seamless, front-fastening bra made of a fabric which was sheer and glittery. It lifted and shaped my breasts but was totally see through. My boyfriend was a fan of my boobs in this bra because it allowed a natural breast ‘jiggle’ when I walked.

For this costume change I had brought a prop — a red lollipop, which I unwrapped.

I perched my bum on the edge of the bed, spread my legs and toyed the round lollipop provocatively against my mouth. My boyfriend dropped to his knees, a position allowing the camera to view the vista from below. My legs were toned, but my muscles strained a little to hold my pose.

The bikini pants were lilac with white lace, and their skimpy style meant that they had bunched up, rubbing between my buttocks. My narrow waist made my boobs look all the more voluptuous. I leaned forward to increase my cleavage, then I stuck out my tongue, twirling the lollipop on its glistening pink surface. My boyfriend clicked the camera again.

Next thing I knew he was leaning so close that I could feel his breath moving little hairs on my skin.

“Hold still sexy, I need to adjust your outfit.”

As I sat, he began to suck my nipple through the fabric of my bra. It felt too good to protest. Before I knew it, he moved to the other breast, licking and sucking the same way. He eyed their pebbled tips critically before moving back to his previous position. He seemed oblivious that he’d rendered me breathless. He was all business as he snapped another shot, encouraging me to lick seductively on the lollipop.

For the next pose, I released the catch on my bra, letting my breasts spring free. My nipples — still puckered from his ministrations - pulled them into a pert shape. I looked into the camera knowingly and trailed the sticky lolly over the tip of one breast.

“Nice!” he breathed, pressing the shutter button. “Now without your knicks!” He looked pointedly at my crotch.

I felt strangely nervous as I removed them, my last layer of privacy, whilst equally feeling exhilarated. I stood to slide them from my hips, past the bright white band of the stocking tops. As they travelled past my knees he told me to stop. He pushed my knees apart to a width that held my panties taught between my legs.

With the red lollipop still held in my hand I was posed as if I’d been caught in mid-action, my hands sliding the silky knickers down my stockinged legs.

He knelt to take one picture, then lay in front of me. His next snap would be an up-shot aimed towards my shaved snatch, my breasts hanging a little as I leaned forward to reach my panties at my knees.

“Ohhh that’s the money shot!” he almost moaned.

The camera whirred and a black looking photo rolled out. He grasped the picture and flapped it, as if that would make it develop quicker. At first he warned me not to move, in case we needed to re-take any pictures, but soon we were looking closely at all our snaps and feeling very elated. They looked great! We’d captured that elusive combination of innocence and knowing, sexy but not tawdry, undressed without baring all.

My boyfriend put them carefully aside, along with the camera. His heated gaze and straining jeans told me it was our time to play.

“You naughty girl!” he cooed, “you loved doing that didn’t you?”

I nodded, feeling buoyed with pride at how I’d looked in those pictures — me but not quite me. I quickly became aroused at the sensations his fingers awoke in me. They stroked warmly up my stockinged thighs until they slid under my bare buttocks and pulled my groin towards his face.

“I want to lick you, to bury my tongue deep in your hot little slit. Would you like that?”

I could only nod, because I did. Just listening to him say it gave me tingles and I could feel my pulse quicken as my arousal built. The swampy dampness in my pussy became undeniable. As he lowered his head to lick and suck at me, I could smell the spicy sweet aroma of my juices gathering as the goosebumps broke out on my skin.

I lay back, looking down at my body, admiring my nipples, now hard, dark peaks of flesh drawing up from my breasts. I ran my fingers through his hair distractedly as I enjoyed how his fingers and tongue were stroking and rubbing within and around the folds of my pussy, creating a confusion of fabulous sensations.

I could not reach any part of him to return the pleasure, but as I moaned and mewled with desire, he urged me to be selfish.

“Go baby, let yourself cum.”

“Harder, please, harder!”

I hardly recognised my own voice, which came out as such a desperate whine, but he responded, pushing his fingers inside me, deeper and harder until I began to clutch and spasm on them. It was the first colorburst of my climax. I drew my knees in as I came, clamping his head either side, reluctant to ever let him stop his tongue action. My twitches and spasms continued long and hard, their aftershocks had me lying spent with my legs spread, while he stood up and undid his trousers.

He released his swollen cock from its denim and cotton prison. Taking a moment, he stroked his shaft firmly and swiftly, pumping his fist up and down, he never reduced his grip. All the while he kept looking at me, spread out and vulnerable while he fisted his own pleasurable build up.

“Squeeze your tits!” he ground out.

I pinched and twisted my nipples while he watched. I also used pressed my arms inwards to push my breasts more. I’d bet money he was imagining rubbing his dick in the tight channel between them, as he sometimes did.

Inevitably his breath soon quickened and his hips jolted forward a few times, his buttocks clenching. Then suddenly his whole body was bucking with spasms and ropes of creamy jizz came pumping from his cock to land on me. His tribute to my body, the sexy tease of taking those pictures, was hitting my breasts and stomach. Warm and wet, thick and opaque, I was coated with splashes of cum as he generously decorated my face and neck. My boyfriend’s eyes were tight shut, but I lay very still, feeling little pulses of my own pleasure, until he recovered himself and could admire his handiwork.

As the aftershocks died away he looked ridiculously proud of the mess of cum he’d laid on me. I took it as a tribute rather than something dirty, felt excited that I drove him wild with desire.

I savoured the idea that I’d moved from Ice Queen to Cum Slut in one photo session.

He wore a big smile on his face as he passed me a wad of tissues with which to clean myself up.

“That was incredible!” he said, wiping my glistening juices off his cheeks and chin. “You are such a sexy temptress. Was it good for you?”

“So great,” I nodded with enthusiasm and sat up to kiss him.

He tasted of me, which I also liked. “Can I get a shower?”

My boyfriend looked at the clock before nodding, but urged me to be quick, his brother would be home from work soon. We took it in turns to rinse ourselves off, get dry and dressed, then we sat down to choose which pictures we would send off to the magazine. The rest he locked in his briefcase (a birthday present he hadn’t thought was very useful when his uncle gave it to him).

I wrote the letter and sent my pictures off to the magazine, but we didn’t get a reply. We kept buying the glossy magazine for a few months, but never saw my photos published in subsequent issues of the lads’ mag. A few months after that we split up, I can’t remember the reasons, but in all the drama, I didn’t ask him to return the pictures. I’ve often wondered if he kept those that we didn’t send to the magazine for his own private ‘spank bank’. Or if bitterness made him destroy them.

Whatever he did, I have happy memories of the day I became someone’s ‘centrefold’.

Read alongside my retrospective on porn, or my discovery of Victorian erotica.

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