I Sent My First Nudes (But Not to My Husband)

It was an act of self-love



I’ve been with my husband for 15 years and we’ve managed to do just about everything.

Along the way, I’ve fulfilled most of his wishes and sexual fantasies.

Except for one.

Mr. Austin knows how much I love to work a camera and he has repeatedly suggested I use it to take dirty photos for him.

Not gonna lie, I’ve thought about it. I really love the idea of doing it, but I could never bring myself to actually take a single photo.

I’ve tried to talk myself into doing it as a naughty birthday present, as a sexy anniversary surprise, or just as a way to make Valentine’s Day a little more special.

But the closer I get to doing it, the more I psych myself out. The thought of undressing for the camera turned me on but also terrified me.

Until recently.

A few weeks ago, I started taking body shots. Then some skimpier body shots. And then some naked body shots.

After years of wanting to expose myself but being too scared, I finally did it. I took some nudes.

And I sent them off.

But not to my husband.

Sexting Goes Visual

Before I got confident enough to send dirty selfies, I started receiving them.

I’m a polyamorous lady, which means I got to enjoy some guilt-free flirting with a guy named Rob. Our sexting often got me hot and bothered, and I know they made Rob horny, too.

I know because he showed me.

Whenever our lip-biting conversations got steamy enough to arouse him, he’d let me know by sending me a photo to show me how hard I made his cock. And he has been kind enough to keep sending them to me even though I wasn’t ready to reciprocate with anything but compliments.

There’s a part of me that really wanted to give him something more. I wanted to show him how wet he made me. How hard my nipples got. I wanted to show off my ass because it’s my best feature and it’s hotter than my words.

I also have nothing but admiration for the people who share their bodies like that. The people baring it on Reddit, the camgirls and camboys broadcasting from their bedrooms, the amateur pornstars who have turned undressing and fucking into an art form. They make the world a better, sexier place and I wish I could do my part, too.

They all seem so empowered. I envied how readily Rob could take his cock out for a photo, just for me. Why couldn’t I just whip out my tits or tug down my panties and do the same?

Well, okay, I know why. There’s a big, long list of reasons. It includes all the usual ones that make women uncomfortable with their bodies, but the one that’s at the very top, written in bolded, 72-point font is my father.

He consistently, constantly wore down at my self-esteem. He kept it up so long that it was almost non-existent.

A lot of it had to do with my looks. He wanted a daughter he could be proud of, and that meant a daughter who was pretty. But I was just a little too plump and not enough of a girl next door.

I got the message early: I’m not pretty enough to be loved.

Learning to love myself is going to take some work.

If I even think of taking a photo — especially a naughty one — I start rehearsing some pretty gloomy stuff in my head.

I’m not hot enough to pull this off.

Anyone who sees this is going to focus on my flaws.

Who would even want to see this?

It’s hard to quiet that kind of talk. It’s hard wired.

But I can power through almost anything if I’m horny enough.

So, after a long day of writing and reading filthy and flirty emails, I did something bold.

I was undressing for a shower, caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and didn’t hate what I saw. So, I grabbed my phone, played with the angles for a bit, and took a few shots.

The results weren’t super explicit or anything. Just my plaid shirt with a few buttons undone, no bra, a peek of cleavage.

I felt two kinds of embarrassed. I was embarrassed because I actually took a racy photo. But I was almost too embarrassed to send it because it was so tame.

But I did it. I hit send. And now Rob had a photo of my cleavage.

He replied almost immediately (always a good sign) with effusive praise. It was his first real glimpse at my chest and he was here for it.

I loved the reassurance. I was worried that I was too undesirable, too ugly, too unsexy to be sending nudes. Now, here I was basking in his praise and enjoying the rush of validation it gave me.

It felt so good. It turned me on. So, I decided to send it again.

This time, to my dear, patient husband.

Getting Dirtier and Dirtier — One Photo at a Time

Sending that photo made me bolder. Eventually, I took another that was more revealing. Then another.

Instead of cleavage, I showed my tits. I snapped a photo of my legs in the bath. I spread those legs and took a very clear shot of my pussy.

Whenever I’m having a cute day, I’ll stand in front of the mirror and see if I can get something worth sharing.

Sending those nudes taught me that I can be vulnerable while still holding on to a lot of control. I can’t control his reactions or how he’ll make me feel. And I’m literally naked. But I can control what I share and what I don’t. I can reveal only as much as I want to.

That control is part of what kept me from doing it before. I always thought sharing nudes wouldn’t be validating because it wouldn’t be the real me. It would all be smoke and mirrors - precise angles, pushing my tits up to defy gravity, adjusting the settings to make the image lighter, cropping things out strategically. How could I feel validated by someone appreciating a fake version of me?

But now that I’ve done it, I know it’s not a fake version of me. I wouldn’t feel so exposed if it was fake.

It’s a controlled version of. It’s a forced perspective on me. But it’s still me.

It’s not the full me. I’m not ready to throw open my bathrobe and not give a shit about how it looks. It’s a baby step, though, and that counts.

With every photo, I’m showing more. Every time, I get closer to showing all the parts that make me sigh when I look in the mirror. And every time I send one, I’m learning to love myself and my body - one angle at a time.

The original version of this article was written in May, 2019. Things with Rob didn’t last much longer, but I’m still taking nudes and learning to appreciate my body.

And if you want my tips for taking incredible nudes, check out my article on How to Take Jaw-Dropping Nudes.