Lucy kicked the front door shut and placed the parcel on the counter to tackle it with scissors. Nestled amongst paper and polystyrene chips was the camera for the photography class she’d enrolled in. Lucy flicked the switch on the kettle, her kitchen clean, with everything put away. As it boiled she thought fondly of the years her sons lived at home, leaving counters crummy, and dirty plates abandoned. The house was too quiet since they’d left for university. Recently Lucy was rattling around in empty rooms, her free time felt heavy on her hands.

Two nights later, Lucy reviewed herself critically in the mirror. Twisting and turning, admiring that her jeans clung snugly, her stomach was still toned. Smoothing her t-shirt down she shrugged on a hoodie. By the front door she grabbed trainers, her new camera bag and keys. The photography class was guy-heavy, several had seemingly elected it as a retirement hobby, Lucy was unaware of their eyes on her as she entered the room. Even casually dressed, her poise drew glances, the swing of her curvy rear as she strode to a front seat caused a couple of gents to adjust their slacks.

That weekend, Lucy parked on weed-strewn concrete in front of an abandoned warehouse. Before reaching into the boot for her camera and tripod, she stood and surveyed her subject, whose dark, paneless windows were broken teeth in a desolate grin. “Great!" she thought. The moodier the better. She roamed the deserted lot assessing locations, gauging the lighting as her tutor had instructed.

She selected a large, arched doorway then set up the tripod to take some test shots. Critiquing them she realised they lacked impact, the scale of the doors hadn’t translated to film. In a flash of inspiration, she set the camera’s timer and raced to the arch. Arranging herself casually, silky hair draped to hide her face, she leaned back against the door jamb, ankles crossed.

Withdrawing to the car, Lucy sipped her sweet black coffee and reviewed the pictures. Their composition was pleasing; she looked surprisingly good. A genuinely attractive woman against the backdrop of a deserted commercial building struck a much more dramatic contrast. 

Lucy had always taken good care of herself, but since the boys left for university she’d begun visiting the gym, where she also swam lengths in the pool. Gradually her fitness and tone had re-established, but not her confidence. That had diminished during her years of parenting. During that time her focus had been on bringing up her boys to be well-rounded men, polite, intelligent but unashamed to show their emotions. They kissed and hugged her in front of their friends. Toby in particular always told her how beautiful she was. As she continued to study the photograph, admiring the lean lines of her figure caused Lucy to consider that Toby had a point.

Her positivity and creativity revving, it occurred to her that less clothes would give the photograph more contrast. But did she dare? She hadn’t displayed herself that way for years, not since beach holidays with the twins, when she’d helped them build sand castles. Back then she’d even preferred to wear a tankini or sarong, shyly covering her torso with its childbearing induced stretch marks.

This was a new phase, surely? 

Before she could talk herself out of it, Lucy stripped down to her underwear (white, but pretty satin and lace) then slipped her boots back on. Bending over the tripod, the satin strained across her curves, her breasts pressed forward invitingly, barely contained by lace cups. Her rear, encased in the sheened fabric, was reminiscent of a ripe peach, succulent and firm. With the camera focused and the timer set, Lucy returned to the arched doorway, hips swinging, both thrilled and terrified by her audacity.

Her initial poses were coy, using her curtain of chestnut hair to hide her face, but they couldn’t suppress her sexual allure. She experimented by squeezing her arms together or bending at the waist, poses to plump her tits to create cavernous cleavage. Lucy tried turning away from the camera to give a sexy arch to her back while, hands pressed to the wall, she cast smouldering looks over her shoulder into the lens of the camera.

Lucy selected one of her earlier pictures (clothes on) to submit for her assignment, which proved very popular among her class. However, Lucy chose an uber sexy one (glance over shoulder pose) to post in a sexy internet photo meme she’d discovered. This image got 100+ views that first weekend, along with a flood of positive comments, which really stroked her ego.

Gradually Lucy began to take more care of herself. Becoming mindful of what she wore, from lingerie outwards, she learned that, for her, taking care at foundation level led to feeling desirable, powerful. For the first time in years she felt visible, an attractive woman whose body broadcast her more confident attitude. Lucy began to see herself the way others saw her.

Lucy experimented, taking candid photos using varying lights, exposure and locations. She was delighted as she viewed her sexuality through the ‘eye’ of the camera. More powerful still, was the positive affirmation her ‘online’ identity gained. Not only angle and composition remarks of praise were posted. Lucy’s pictures elicited lusty, appreciative celebration from all genders which freed her inner goddess. 

At her fourth photography lesson, Lucy wore a figure-hugging dress. Arriving late and hovering at the door, Lucy was beckoned in by her tutor. The class devoured her catwalk to a seat at the front. High heels had structured Lucy’s bum while tilting her spine to showcase her tits. When she sat and crossed her legs, silky stockings chafed with a delicious whisper. Lucy could feel her power. She had a secret, she was admired, a world of possibilities spread out at her feet.

Taking sexy photos in addition to her college assignments, Lucy continued to participate regularly in the weekly photographic meme, continuing to earn herself a barrage of appreciative feedback. The first Sunday of every month the meme had a prompt, but the latest challenged Lucy: “With a Little Help from Your Friends”. Lucy wasn’t ready to get anyone else involved in her erotic photography. Whilst she found it incredibly freeing and empowering, she was reluctant to share with friends what she did.

At the end of the next class, Lucy took Jeff, her tutor, aside for advice. How could she create an image which showed the subject twice, preferably in different positions? Jeff explained it was called double exposure, showing her how to open one image on top of another using an editing icon of the same name.

Feeling inspired to experiment, Lucy took shots of herself lying at the centre of her bed, others in various positions seated and standing around the bed, hands and arms extended towards the midpoint of the mattress. Lucy was able to layer several shots, creating an image which looked as if additional ‘Lucys’ were stroking and touching the prone Lucy - it was very sensuous and proved a hit with her online fan base.

Reviewing the other entries for the same prompt, Lucy noticed several had included sex toys in their pictures, a totally different take on the concept of ‘help’. It got her wondering if she was missing out. Lucy was by no means a prude, but sex with her ex-husband hadn’t been very adventurous; satisfying but not exciting. Since living alone, she’d occasionally masturbated, but it was usually something done furtively under the running water of the shower.

Browsing this week’s photos got Lucy curious, so she opened a new tab in her browser to search for sex toys, picking a fairly generic brand aimed at the vanilla market. Over an hour later she was both elucidated and aroused! She’d opened an account and placed an order. Looking forward to its delivery she hoped the site’s claims of discrete packaging were true.

---

That weekend Lucy found herself in the kitchen, tackling the tape of another parcel with scissors. Inside was the small, discreet bullet vibrator she’d ordered. The old Lucy had never used a sex toy. New Lucy, enlightened and more confident, had decided to re-awaken her libido by finding out what she liked and providing it for herself.

Her internet searches had taken her down all sorts of rabbit holes. Lucy found dildos that were anatomically correct and others of more fantastical proportions or ‘nonhuman’ design. The vibrators varied in length and girth, some had arms to stimulate the clitoris simultaneously. Other vibes were designed to focus sucking or licking motions specifically on the powerhouse of nerve endings of the clit.

Another fact Lucy discovered was that a female’s clitoris grows as a female gets older. In ‘mid-life’ she was apparently more receptive to stimulation than she’d been as a young woman. This partly explained women taking toy-boys for lovers, a concept she’d found faintly ridiculous while her own sex-drive still lay dormant.

She went upstairs to try out the shiny, metallic vibe, which was small enough to fit in her hand. Lucy had deliberately chosen one which was pretty and looked non-threatening. There’d be plenty of time to try out more complex and sophisticated models if this early experiment proved pleasurable.

Feeling some trepidation, and a little foolish ‘getting her sexy on’ in broad daylight, Lucy drew the bedroom curtains and took a shower. Under the water she let her mind wander through arousing memories, a montage of images from fantasies and happy intimate encounters with her earlier boyfriends. Thoughts of stolen moments seemed to get her particularly turned on. Hands sneaking under her skirt to slip inside her knickers while her date was driving got her hot. Remembering steamy explorations under blouses and inside unzipped jeans in the anonymous dark of the cinema caused throbs in her pussy which surprised her.

Patting and rubbing herself dry, Lucy tried to imagine hands other than hers travelling the undulating geography of her curves. As she rubbed a moisturising lotion into her stomach, breasts and legs Lucy bit her lip, losing herself in a vision of butterfly kisses, nibbles and nips being delivered to these expanses of skin.

Wrapped in a towel Lucy set up her camera, positioning the tripod so that it viewed where she planned to sit on her bed. She positioned a mirror between her legs, before pressing a button on the vibrator to activate it. Scrolling through its vibration patterns she discovered it had constant speeds and patterns. It seemed sensible to start at the lowest speed, so Lucy selected that before tentatively running the device over her labia.

Lucy gazed with fascination in the mirror at her plump curtains of flesh, slightly darker in colour than the skin of her legs. The sensation was pleasant, tingling, almost warming. As Lucy continued to trace her lips, she noticed them draw apart slightly and, if she wasn’t imagining it, they looked fuller. She could check when she watched the film back later.

Passing the vibe over her mons, near her clit, Lucy felt so much more sensation, a greater response of thrill ran through her. Gradually she increased the pressure, massaged more firmly, focussing the vibrations on her clitoris. The internet had taught her its structure consisted of much more than the visible nub. Lucy discovered that pressing and rubbing the upper area with the tapered tip of the vibe had her squirming with delight. She closed her eyes as endorphins surged pleasurably around her body.

Next time Lucy looked in the mirror she viewed a vivid slash of pink, moist looking skin. Her labia had parted and her clit looked engorged. Lucy licked a finger to circle it around the tiny stiff stalk. She groaned aloud, lust cranking up slowly but steadily, like an elevator while the camera lens silently captured the mounting erotic action.

With one hand she pressed down on her pussy lips, parting them as she did until her clit was isolated, standing proud. Lucy teased it mercilessly with the vibrator, causing her hips to buck and her bottom to writhe against the mattress. A flush bathed her, warmth and awareness crept up her body. It radiated out from her core, till Lucy imagined she glowed like hot coals with arousal and desire, gasping out loud. 

Looking down at herself Lucy observed hard nipples. Her teasing touches confirmed they were hypersensitive. Strings of clear juice drooled from her hole, coating her pussy lips and pooling on the towel beneath her. Wanton, Lucy dipped her fingers inside, she felt her pussy walls, throbbing and glossy.

A strong yearning to have something fill her, pounding into her with deep thrusts, took Lucy by surprise, but she listened to her body and sank two fingers inside herself. Enjoying the sensations, she thrust slowly. She watched in the mirror, fascinated by them sliding in and out, slippery with juices.

Simultaneously Lucy kept rubbing and teasing the straining bud of her clit with the vibe. At this point, she dialled the device to its highest constant speed. Lucy didn’t stop, couldn’t if she’d wanted to. The throb, rub and plunder needed to be constant to take her there.

Lucy’s imagination went into overdrive as she thrummed herself, filling with images of muscled men with pumping buttocks who pistoned in and out of her hungry pussy. She visualised herself lying on an altar, putting on a show for devoted, lusty pagan worshippers who writhed, naked but for their robes. They fisted and stroked themselves into a sexual frenzy while watching Lucy fuck herself hard with a sacred phallic symbol. 

As starbursts of climactic pleasure washed over her, making her body twitch, Lucy’s mind spiralled out in fragments of release. She could almost feel ropes and squirts of opaque come landing on her naked body, decorating her breasts, stomach and thighs; trophies of the disciples’ devotion to their lusty deity. 

“Where had that come from?” Lucy wondered happily as her breathing steadied and she drifted back to herself. Her body was still experiencing delightful orgasmic aftershocks so she touched herself experimentally. Her clitoris was tender and engorged, almost overwhelmed with sensation while her juices ran free, dampening her perineum.

Lucy reached for tissues to clean up, smiling with satisfaction. It truly was like riding a bike, you never forgot how, but self-induced pleasure was better than she remembered! She hid the vibe in a balled up sock before placing it in her bedside cabinet, making a plan to use it again that night, while watching what she’d filmed.

Her body felt wrapped in a soft robe of relaxed, pleasurable sensations. She was curious whether the throbs she’d felt at climax, which had been strong, were visible externally or were an internal flex of muscles. Using the camera to film her self-pleasuring session would surely educate Lucy about her body’s responses. Lucy was enjoying discovering her sexual depths while the idea of exploring further was both exciting and empowering. Perhaps reading some erotica should be next on her agenda of self-discovery.

The self-assurance she’d had pre-motherhood was resurfacing in all areas of her life, and confidence is sexy. At work, Lucy’s colleagues paid her more attention. In meetings or walking the corridors, her allure wafted like incense from a thurible. Lucy’s confidence went through the roof and she was assigned a special project to tackle which led to a pay rise.

Even Frank from Accounting, a silver fox divorcee who Lucy had long admired, wasn’t immune to the thrall of her new self-assurance. It seemed he began to time his lunch break to coincide with hers. One day he enquired if the seat opposite was free. Lucy smiled, welcoming him to join her. As they talked Frank forgot to eat, seemingly distracted by her full lips, playful gestures and the delicious orbs pressing against her blouse.

Lucy was flattered by his attentiveness and drawn to his lively conversation. He enquired about her project and listened, offering intelligent questions until they moved away from work chat.

“I love the theatre. I travel to London see a show a few times a year.”

Lucy laughed. “I have to confess, the last show I saw was Stomp! I couldn’t have dragged my boys to a musical, but that was raucous and rhythmic and it grabbed their attention.”

Lucy experienced a throb of desire when Frank smiled. She wanted to make it happen again. Looking at the curve of his lip she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Emboldened by their apparent connection, new Lucy threw caution to the wind.

“Frank, would you like to go out?”

“I’m sorry Lucy,” Frank stumbled over his words. “Say that again?” 

Without hesitation, she said again, “Would you like to go out one evening?”

When his eyes widened in surprise, Lucy wondered if she’d gone too far, misread the signs. Her pulse pounded in her ears, unused to being so forthright. Then Frank’s face broke into a smile.

“I’d love that Lucy, when were you thinking?” He pulled out his phone to check his calendar, and she flushed with elation. A date and time was selected. Lucy and Frank agreed to go for a drink and a bite to eat.

Lucy and Frank headed in separate directions back to their workstations, Lucy silently congratulated herself for seizing the moment. She was determined, going forward, to enjoy the layers of herself that she had uncovered.

She smirked as she sat at her desk.

Maybe now I’m ready to get a little help from a friend.

***

Feel like going on an erotic self-portraiture adventure yourself but don't know where to start?

Check out Sinful Sunday, an actual sexy internet photo meme hosted by Molly of Molly's Daily Kiss that you can participate in any time, just like Lucy.  

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