If you are expecting Jane Austen, you are in the wrong place. My husband Malcolm is a persuasive guy. He got me to marry him. He's got the gift of the gab. He could sell snow to Eskimos or shampoo at a convention for bald men. That's why I'm surprised at the sudden change in our relationship. He could easily have got me to do all of this stuff years ago, if he set his mind to it. I was a catch, back in the day. A decent education and a better body. The years and four kids have taken their toll. I used to have great boobs. Now their twice the size and on their way south. I can only see my nipples in the mirror. My belly is rounded and covered in enough stretch marks to make it look like a picture of the moon. As for my vag, that looks like a relief map of the Himalayas, rather than the neat coin slot I started with. It must happen to a lot of women, not just me. So, what's the problem?

Probably nothing other than some self esteem issues for me. Our sex life had been pretty good, if unexceptional. Even after all this time, we indulge in plenty of foreplay, which I guess could have gone down the swanny. OK, so when we met, we couldn't keep our hands off each other. Any time of day, anywhere. Now, apart from the occasional evening on the sofa, it is mostly confined to the bedroom, about three times a week. Not bad, if what I understand is correct. It's what Mal decided he wanted to try that made me wonder what had got into him.

Back in my earlier years, I'd happily have posed naked for him, like I've said, I looked good but he never asked me. Now in Mal's words, I look great, liar. I was less than impressed with the results, mentally comparing myself to how I use to look. On the other hand, Mal had a hard on, even when he was taking the pictures. His dick was dripping as he looked back at the pictures. I didn't understand it but I wasn't complaining. It led to some incredible sex. He went longer and harder than he had for a while. What's more, he woke me up a couple of hours later and we did it again. That hadn't happened in years. If this is what was going to happen, you could count me in for more.

They say, be careful what you wish for. Maybe, they had me in mind. Mal didn't just want nude shots. We graduated on to sexy undies, a baby doll and more. I still didn't like the pictures. Too many flabby bits sticking out where they shouldn't but the twice a night on these occasions, I was more than happy with. I hoped it didn't peter out. Especially as on some of these nights, my orgasm count hit double figures. I'd have to change the soaking wet sheets in the morning.

Getting plenty, I carried on complying with his requests, no matter how strange or out there they seemed. I've no idea where all of this was coming from. We don't watch porn. At least I don't. I know it's out there, I had a quick look once but it's not for me. I don't know if Mal does. He hasn't said. It doesn't matter if that is something he wants to keep to himself. If it wasn't porn, all I could imagine was some of his friends. Mine skirt around the subject. We know that we are all still getting some but details are kept sketchy. I'm not bothered what they get up to. If they're happy, that's good enough and I suppose they are the same about me.

Who cares where it was coming from, as long as I was getting enough. One night with his phone at the ready, I spotted some soft looking red rope on the bed. I was expecting him to tie me to the bed, take a few pictures and for us to have a fuck. Not so. Dropping his phone on the bed, he took the rope and bound my big saggy tits, quite tightly. With part of the rope behind my neck, it was like having a pair of bazookas pointing out. He began snapping away. As time went on, I could see the exposed bits of flesh turning purple. Finished with his pictures, he began sucking and pinching my nipples. In the normal run of things it's a nice feeling. In my current bound, slightly painful state, I came. I couldn't explain it. It's never happened before. Maybe it won't again but I slumped to my knees, juices oozing from my pussy. The orgasm had been earth shattering but it was a relief when the bazookas were released from their bonds. The rush of blood a little painful in its own right.

His interest in cordage didn't stop there. Yet again, no sign of me being tied down and ravaged. Disappointing but not for long. What I was trussed up with, is apparently a style of Japanese bondage. One piece of the rope in particular was almost eye watering in its placement. It went over my clit, down between my labia, across my arsehole and up between my bum cheeks. Wriggling to shift it, just stirred some feelings. Not just some, lots. Mal having me repeatedly squat, stand and strut about like this got me off, just as insanely hard as with my tits tied. The sensation made all the more powerful by having my arms bound behind my back, above the elbows and at the wrist. Any movements like this were made tricky, as was balancing. The rope between my pussy lips was so tight, there was no chance of Male getting his dick in. I need not have worried. He was so turned on, not long after I'd cum, he wanked a load onto my belly. Amazing, us both cumming while stood up. Mind you, we'd have to wash the rope!

He never did tie me to the bed. Clearly not a turn on for him. I quite liked the idea of being helpless and pleasured. Oh well. What did excite us never ceased to amaze me. I'd never have believed myself to have been remotely interested in bondage before. Maybe he'd read the situation and the timing to perfection. Or, he'd been wanting this for a long time and just couldn't keep it to himself anymore. I suppose it is difficult to broach the subject, if you don't know how the other person will react. Our lovemaking usually progressed by trying the physical and stopping or carrying on, depending on whether we liked it or didn't. None of it was discussed beforehand. The semi spontaneous isn't going to work if it involves being trussed up like a turkey.

Rope must be available almost anywhere. Where the hell he got the clamps he put on my nipples or the things he had dangling from my pussy lips I'll never know. This wasn't the same, at least for me. A bit of discomfort but not the same arousal as the rope. However, the visual aspect did a fair bit for both of us. We had to remove the pussy danglers to fuck but yanking off the nipple clamps when I came was a wow.

I've never really thought of myself as submissive. At least I hadn't until recently. The sex we'd had previously, wasn't like that. Nothing was. I was getting off in spectacular fashion, which tipped the balance in favour of following Mal's wishes. He'd never want to actually hurt me. He's not like that. He might come across as controlling to people who don't know him, it's just the way he talks. The way he acts isn't the same.

I wasn't sure about his next desire. We've been down that route, or should that be, in that hole before. It didn't go that well. That was more than twenty years ago, before the kids. I don't think either of us really knew what we were doing. I found it painful and as a consequence Mal didn't enjoy it as much as he might have. My bum was gorgeous back then, Now it's bigger and shows signs of cellulite. Having pictures of things inserted between a great pair of cheeks is one thing. Looking at it with all of the wrinkles and blemishes would, in my eyes, take a strong stomach. I'd just gone along with everything else, he actually wanted my approval for this. I gave it. Probably more in hope than expectation. My pussy accepts bigger insertions than it used to, Mal's cock and a small vibrator. My hope was that this would be mirrored on where he was hoping to go.

It was with some trepidation that I bent over for him, after one of the longest and best foreplay sessions in a while. A glance at the bed beside me saw a selection of new items. Mal must be spending a fair bit on our new direction. Lubricant during our first attempt was petroleum jelly. It did something but clearly not enough. Things have move on. Specialised numbing lubricant. It must be good stuff. Whatever he started to push in first, slipped in without a problem. He pulled it out. I demanded to see. I was a little disappointed in myself. I should have felt at least a decent bit of resistance. The plug he'd used wasn't far off dick size. He pushed it back in. Took some pictures and placed a vibrator against my clit. The plug popped out, only to be replaced by something else. No bulge and easing as it went home, just a held open feeling. I could feel the pressure, as though he was pushing. That was followed by a prolonged pull. The process repeated several times before the vibe on my clit did it's job.

When he'd fucked my bum, there wasn't a hope in hell of me cumming. In fact, he didn't either. This was a strange and unusual feeling. I was repeatedly gripping whatever Mal had in me. It was as if I was trying to pull it further inside. Mal groaned and I felt his cum hit my buttock and start running down the back of my thigh. It took the pair of us a while to recover. My first word,

"What?"

I felt him pulling slowly, then a weird sensation as it left me. I felt empty, if that makes sense. He moved to show me, a pink cock girth dildo. Anyone with a dick like this was deformed. It was about a foot long.

"How much?"

"£14.99."

"Fool. You know what I meant."

"Just about all of it, apart from the bit I was holding."

He put it down and showed me the pictures. A series going in and coming out. Disturbing doesn't adequately explain how I felt about it. If I thought that was bad, more was to come. I finally wanted to know where he got his ideas from. That was even more disturbing, than seeing a foot of dildo in my arse.

"It was Ron at work. It all started as a bit of a joke. Some banter during our breaks. It just grew from there."

"Grew into what?"

"Swapping stories.....Swapping photos."

He ducked. Knowing I'd take a swing at him. I missed. My fist whistled over the top of his head, skimming his hair. Swapping stories could always be played down as a bit of exaggeration, or total bullshit. Having photographic proof blew that out of the water.

"What did we get in return?"

"Return?"

"You can't swap something, without getting something back. Otherwise you are giving it away."

I know Ron and his wife Dottie. We often sit together at works parties. The thought that at least Ron, if not his wife had seen me, in all of the situations I've just described wasn't pleasant. Were they getting off on what Malcolm had got me to do? Or, worse still laughing at me. Only if there was something comparable coming back the other way, would it make me feel a little better about what Malcolm had got us involved in. Actually, when he showed me, I was a lot more relaxed about it.

Every time I've seen Dottie, she's looked pretty curvy. She must own one hell of a corset. Naked and letting it all hang out, I felt a lot better about any of my perceived faults. The same corset fabric must be used on her bras. Her nipples are like the top ts of my thumbs. You'd never guess, seeing her in clothes. Mostly nude poses, including sipping from a wine glass while holding her shaved pussy wide open. I mean wide. I've told you that I can take Mal and a small vibrator. Dottie made me look like a virgin. At first, I was totally shocked by what Mal showed me last. A video clip.

"That's not Ron." I said.

"His name is Donny. He works in the loading bay, driving a forklift. Probably needs it to get that thing up."

I saw instantly what he meant. I thought that the dildo Mal reamed my bum with was big. It is. It's definitely long but not as fat as what was between Donny's legs. Dottie seemed to enjoy what he was able to do with it.

"Don't get any ideas." I warned Mal.

As two couples, we weren't dissimilar. Although there are marked differences. For us Malcolm is the pushy one. For them it is Dottie. Despite the two of them trying to engineer some form of wife swapping or orgy session, myself and Ron are resisting. Photo swapping is one thing, partner swapping is way beyond what I'm comfortable with. I wasn't even that keen when Malcolm said we should give them a video, in exchange for the one with Donny in it. However, as time has gone on, I can deal with it. I will it that having forced the truth from Malcolm, I'm enjoying having an almost endless supply of homemade porn. Even if it does involve a rather chubby woman with big nips and an even bigger fanny.