Wife in the lens

We drove our fellow photographers away from the outdoor shooting location, had a meal together, and then the three groups

gathered at an indoor photography studio owned by one of our friends, which we had planned to visit beforehand. This friend is quite influential; he's

the son of the chairman of a wedding photography company. Getting his venue sponsorship was something

we hadn't experienced before for any photography event.

He drove us to a spacious four-story studio.

The first three floors were currently used for wedding photography.

He led us directly to the fourth floor through the back door. This floor had three separate photography studios. Each

studio was fully equipped, with ceiling tracks, cool-light lamps, and softboxes—everything you could need.

We split into three groups and went to the three studios. Each studio was well-equipped, and

the light was so soft and even in front of the objects (also called soft umbrellas) in front of the octagonal softboxes. I noticed

some equipment was from Baoguang (I recognized this domestic brand), while others were imported.

I was astonished; these things must be quite expensive.

Then, the models went to their studios.

The room was located closest to the stairs. I turned my head and saw my wife go into the room

and come out a moment later. She was talking to that somewhat influential friend, and I went over.

My wife told the friend she wanted a one-piece swimsuit, but the room was full of various bikinis

, probably for clients to take photos. My wife probably had

a bad experience with her previous photoshoots, so she was deliberately wanting to wear something more conservative this time.

The friend seemed a bit hesitant and then called the manager downstairs.

This friend was arrogant and spoke very rudely, treating his employees like servants

.

"I have a friend here who wants a one-piece swimsuit..."

"What? You can't even find one here..." "

You don't even have a single one-piece swimsuit? You're embarrassing me..."

"Alright, don't talk to me about Japanese export or anything like that, it doesn't matter, as long as it's a one-piece

." He spoke loudly into the phone,

sounding very impatient.

Then, turning his head and smiling at my wife, he said, "Just a moment. The swimsuits we usually prepare are mostly bikinis for friends who

like style. We probably have spare one-piece swimsuits for photoshoots too, but

they don't wear them often, so we don't know where they are. Luckily, one of my supervisors said that after shooting a Japanese-style case last time,

besides bikinis, there was one white one-piece swimsuit left over. It might be an export model, but

we can get it right away."

My wife, listening from the side, felt that her request might be putting the organizers in a difficult position and wanted to interject,

but hesitated. At this moment, the other two models had already changed into their bikinis and walked out of the room.

My wife thought that any one-piece swimsuit would be less revealing than a bikini. Seeing the friend who had been fiddling with the wires saying, "It's okay, just wear whatever one-piece swimsuit is available," she thought. Then, the other two groups of models, wearing

bikinis went into their respective photography studios and began shooting.

My wife was getting a little anxious. A moment later, a man came up the stairs with a white one-piece swimsuit and handed it to

her. My wife quickly grabbed her swimsuit and went inside.

A moment later, I saw her come out. She was wearing a cream-colored one-piece

swimsuit a high-cut, professional-style one. When she came out, I felt something was off;

it seemed like her swimsuit was a little small.

So I went over and asked.

She said the straps on both shoulders felt tight. But she really looked beautiful in the white

one-piece swimsuit. It was just that the color seemed slightly see-through. But it looked good, not too clear.

Everyone was waiting in the third room, and some photographers, impatient, peeked out to see what was

happening .

My wife came out of the room and quickly walked towards our photography booth. I followed behind her

and looked at the swimsuit. The back fabric was small and narrow,

much narrower than the high-cut swimsuit worn by diving team member Guo Jingjing.

I saw my wife pull at the outer edge of the fabric around her hips; even fully extended, the fabric only covered half

her buttocks , and it got narrower towards the bottom.

The top only narrowed to around the waist. The slit height was similar to

that .

However, the back fabric was larger than a thong, which is probably why my wife chose it. It just

didn't fit quite right; it seemed a size too small and a bit tight.

My wife probably didn't know that the back of her swimsuit exposed more of her buttocks than some ordinary bikinis

. I guessed that she might not have noticed due to time constraints, or perhaps

she didn't want to waste time choosing after all the trouble they'd gone through.

My wife walked from the studio to the photography room in high heels, which

accentuated her full, curvaceous buttocks. I watched as her two exposed, white buttocks

swayed rhythmically with her body, trembling like jelly with each step of her heels.

In the dimly lit corridor, they radiated a dynamic white glow, incredibly sensual. The sight made

me hard.

A fellow photographer who had just arrived was also behind my wife.

I noticed they were all staring at my wife, their eyes glued to her, following her all the way into the photography studio. My wife,

always used to the attention, walked ahead without realizing anything was wrong with her outfit.

Instead, she continued swaying her perfectly voluptuous hips, quite flamboyantly, as she headed towards the innermost photography booth. The photographers waiting

ahead , seeing my wife in her white one-piece swimsuit, initially seemed a little disappointed (after all, the other

groups were all wearing bikinis), but their disappointment quickly faded after seeing her silhouette under the lights.

The expression vanished instantly. Then, everyone greedily eyed the wife's alluring buttocks. Her

full, white buttocks, exposed by the restrictive swimsuit, were even more pronounced under the soft lighting. If it weren't for the presence of others, but just the two of them alone, those curves would be enough to tempt anyone to commit a crime.

The photoshoot began. Everyone raised their cameras, flashes went off incessantly, and shutter clicks echoed incessantly

.

Under the flashes, the wife regained her composure, smiling at everyone.

It seemed the awkwardness of the previous outdoor shoot had vanished completely.

Standing, one hand on her waist, the other supporting her hair, her chin slightly raised,

her expression serene, she then shifted her weight entirely onto one leg, exaggeratingly

thrusting The exaggerated curves of her snow-white buttocks, exposed from the side, presented a beautiful

picture of spring under everyone's gaze, causing the shutter clicks in front of them to almost become a continuous chorus.

Then, after a series of clicks, I carefully examined my wife's front and noticed that I could faintly

see her nipples. I remembered that professional one-piece swimsuits don't have this feature, and white swimsuits

are naturally very translucent. Under such bright lighting, I could indeed see some of my wife's nipples, though

not very clearly.

It was still quite exciting to look at. My wife continued to smile and chat with the photographers about posing,

her expression somewhat excited.

She would occasionally change her poses to appear even more alluring. In my wife's opinion, "

alluring" was the best word to describe a woman, and it seemed she wanted to achieve

that .

Someone brought a chair and had my wife sit with her back to everyone, then turn around to take pictures. My wife smiled

and complied. She lifted one leg, gracefully straddled the chair, and sat down.

This pose accentuated her figure's best features, making her waist appear exceptionally slender. The way

her buttocks and thighs overlapped as she sat down made her hips appear even fuller. I suddenly noticed

that the already small amount of fabric covering her buttocks

was stretched even more by the tension of her legs straddling the chair. Where the fabric would normally reveal more than half of her buttocks, this position meant only a

small portion (two-fifths) was covered, with the rest exposed.

At this point, their voices became even more inappropriate. "Miss, your legs and buttocks are so beautiful."

(My wife loves this kind of flattery; sigh, sugar-coated bullets!)

"Push your buttocks back a little more, yes, yes, tilt your head back a little more. Yes, yes, let your hair down, hmm,

this pose is..."

"Til your body to the side a little more, support yourself with one hand..."

(I saw my wife's buttocks seem to be peeking out from beside her ill-fitting swimsuit.) I was speechless.

My wife 's pose was like a stripper in an American bar sitting on a bar stool, only dressed in more unconventional clothing.

My wife was flushed with excitement, basking in the flashing lights.

Just then, I saw the skinny guy leave the crowd for a moment, then return with a

Master Kong , placing it next to my wife. He looked strange.

My wife was sweating with excitement, and after a brief exchange with the photographers in front of her, someone

picked up the Master Kong water bottle the skinny guy had placed there and handed it to her.

My wife rested for a moment, then continued taking pictures. Soon after, I noticed my wife's face was flushed, with that excited expression she

'd just developed. Her genitals seemed a little damp; her white swimsuit appeared wet

, revealing some dark shadows and a pinkish-white hue against the transparent fabric.

I wasn't the only one noticing; I heard the photographers around us commenting, "This girl's

getting a little horny; her genitals are even wet." But no one paid him any attention; everyone was busy with their cameras.

Then, I saw my wife turn her head, notice her shoulders, and seem to complain, "

The straps on this swimsuit are so tight," before shifting her shoulders as if adjusting the straps.

At this moment, the skinny man in front immediately stepped forward and said, "Miss, is your tank top a little uncomfortable?"

My wife looked up gratefully at the older man who had made her pose awkwardly during the photoshoot. Then, with a kind but

naive expression, she nodded and said, "Could you adjust it for me?"

(See, she fell for it. So young, no social experience at all.)

The skinny man used his fingers to hook the tank top straps through the opening and asked with concern, "Is this better?"

My wife said it was still a little tight, so he told her to lift herself up a bit while sitting in the chair, and then

he pulled the shoulder straps a little harder.

My wife nodded gratefully to indicate that it was okay. Only after the older man got off my wife did I realize the

skinny man 's intention. It turned out that the area around my wife's tank top straps was indeed a little loose. However, due to the pull,

a large portion of the fabric around my wife's already small hips had become embedded in her buttocks. Her buttocks were almost

completely exposed. Because her legs were spread wide, her buttocks were protruding, and the fabric that had previously covered her lower body

was now gathered into a line, with one side of the fabric embedded in her vulva,

clearly exposing that side.

The scene was too much. I walked to the side, picked up my camera, and took a picture. My wife was

facing away from everyone, exposing almost her entire body to them; her slightly raised buttocks even revealed one side

of her vulva. She was also smiling with a blush on her face, seemingly unaware of what she was doing.

Other photographers were constantly capturing this scene with their cameras.

I was also a little hot; the air conditioning in this room seemed to be underpowered. With so many people, the effect was poor.

Of course, there had never been so many people here before. I took out a bottle of mineral water and drank while watching my wife

's poses in front of everyone, so provocative.

I heard the skinny guy in front of me whisper to the person next to him, "How about it, isn't this girl sexy enough?"

"And she's still leering at us like that. Look at those models over there in their bikinis, they're not this revealing."

"Yeah, this slut is a real exhibitionist. I thought she was innocent at first. I didn't expect this..."

someone next to her chimed in.

"I think her swimsuit looks like the kind that'll be exposed when wet, why don't we play around with her again? She'll definitely take the bait!"

(I was a little curious, could such a thing really exist...)

Then I squeezed forward and said to my wife, "Miss, you have such a beautiful figure, and your swimsuit is also very pretty

. It would be even better if we could find a 'lotus emerging from the water' look."

My wife was indeed a little hot and excited at this point. She picked up her water bottle and drank half of it in one gulp. Then,

glancing casually at the empty bottle of mineral water beside her, she said, "How about I pour some mineral water over my head?"

The skinny guy seemed to be waiting for his wife to say this, then stood up and deliberately said loudly, "Miss, you want some

water to create a wet look? Okay, I'll help you."

He picked up the bottle of mineral water and let it flow down his wife's head. One bottle wasn't enough; he opened another

. The water evenly soaked his wife's entire swimsuit.

The previous heat and wetness were replaced by a refreshing coolness.

Everyone stared wide-eyed at the change in his wife. She turned around, intending to strike another

pose…

and a magical phenomenon occurred: her milky-white swimsuit, after being soaked in water, became completely transparent,

clearly revealing her nipples, areolas, and the outline of her breasts.

I was initially very curious; how could a photography studio have a one-piece swimsuit for portrait photography?

It turns out this swimsuit had a story behind it. Could it be one of those legendary Japanese

swimsuits that become transparent when wet?

My wife's breasts, constricted by her swimsuit, appeared even rounder, pressed tightly against her body like perfect hemispherical

pastries, looking incredibly alluring.

She continued to smile at everyone, but this smile, combined with her attire, convinced those who had initially thought

her innocent, were now convinced she was a born exhibitionist, or at least had

some exhibitionistic tendency, deliberately arranging her appearance to achieve sexual pleasure.

There was no need to remind her of what had already happened.

"Come on, girl, lift your head and smile a little. Okay, okay."

My wife obediently complied, her face flushed.

"Come on, spread your legs wide and do a proper dance move."

My wife had seen American dancers perform chair dances before; she herself could already do the splits. She

lifted one leg from one side of the chair, drew an arc in the air, and then

lowered it to the other side of the chair. The entire movement was fluid and seamless, truly like someone with some dance background.

Because of the vigorous movements, the already tight fabric around her lower body gathered even more

, almost completely embedding itself in the crotch. Her thighs were spread apart, and the sheer white swimsuit over her pubic area clearly revealed

a black inverted triangle.

My wife probably felt the fabric around her pubic area was a bit tight, like a string. She

was a little embarrassed adjusting her swimsuit in front of everyone, but her hands still unconsciously moved towards that area. Someone below said, "The movement line; ah, there's still some."

I don't know if my wife heard it, but her expression seemed to grow increasingly excited.

The skinny man seemed to sense my wife's thoughts.

Then he continued, "So beautiful, miss, hold it up with both hands. Thrust forward, yes, tilt your head back,

yes, and ideally close your eyes, make an expression of enjoyment. Good, so beautiful."

My wife's hesitant movements of adjusting her clothes were interrupted, and then she made a standard seductive

gesture .

The camera flashed again, and my wife seemed very excited. Her hand kept touching her

genitals; I didn't know if she was adjusting her clothes or…

After a while, I heard footsteps and looked back through the glass window. The other two groups had

basically ; some photographers were coming downstairs.

It seemed the photoshoot was almost over. I went up to everyone and said, "This photoshoot is over. See

you next time!"

Some photographers lingered, still capturing images of people, while others packed up and

headed for the door. I picked up a large towel and handed it to my wife, saying I'd go say hello to my friends and

wait for her downstairs. I left the studio, passing the restroom. As I came out, I

saw the skinny guy walking into the front room, and the other two models coming out and heading

downstairs.

The other photographers didn't seem to be on this floor anymore.

Then I saw the skinny guy peek into the model room and quickly disappear inside. I quickly

followed , peering inside.

My wife seems to be changing clothes in the room. She just took off her wet swimsuit and dried herself off

, but she seems to have a slight headache, as she touched her forehead with one

hand and put on her shirt with the other. Just as the head was slipped into the glove...

the skinny man walked over, and I saw him approach my wife's body from behind...

"Miss, look at the photos I took of you, look how beautiful you are (unbelievable, how could

he , so shameless), Miss, I know you, aren't you... Your waist is so slim..."

"You, you get out, this, this is the women's model room. Don't be disrespectful to your elders..."

"Ah, you (the skinny man's hand reached for my wife's ample bosom), my wife's hands

were now bound by the clothes around her neck by the skinny man, who was about to take off his pants."

...

At this moment, I heard a photographer calling my name downstairs. I wanted to rush in to rescue my wife, but for some reason,

I went downstairs instead. I thought that my wife, who loves sports, should have no problem dealing with this little old man, but then I thought that my wife

was a little excited. If she had drunk some alcohol, or if I wanted something to happen, it was hard to say...

A multitude of guesses and thoughts swirled in my mind, and I walked downstairs with a complicated feeling…

I met my friend on the first floor. He started talking about something else, rambling on and

on .

Just then, I heard a scream from upstairs, a muffled groan of pain.

Could my wife have… been forced into something?

That shouldn't be happening. I've told her so many times, life is like that—if you can't resist, you have to enjoy it. No way!

A little while later, I saw the skinny guy wearing sunglasses come down. He looked strange, not at all like someone who'd just had sex.

And as he walked down the stairs, he was splayed out his legs, like he had

hemorrhoids .

How strange, I didn't see him wearing sunglasses earlier. A while later, my wife came downstairs, dressed and carrying her bag. She initially looked worried, but when she saw me, she forced a smile and took my arm as we walked down the stairs. I wanted to ask my wife what had happened, but I didn't know how to approach it. I couldn't exactly ask her if she'd been violated, but her expression was complicated. The way she looked at me earlier seemed like she wanted to say something but hesitated. So, we both kept quiet. I figured she must have her reasons. Forcing things won't work. Let's not be so nosy. We went downstairs, and everyone went home. I held my camera bag in one hand and hugged my wife tightly with the other. She pressed her head against my chest. We didn't say anything, just walked hand in hand towards home . Some photographers who hadn't gone far saw me and looked surprised… [The End]

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