She is an intimate friend of Ellen, whom I'm sure most of you remember from a few years ago, before she deserted us to return to 'the colonies'. Pleas... make her welcome!"The audience erupted in loud applause, along with some whistles and shouts. I'd like to think this was all for me but I suspect it was more in memory of Ellen, who seemed to have cut a pretty wide swath through southern England during her college years.As the noise subsided I sensed, rather than heard, other people joining us. I went back down to the bar as I knew Natalie would be another 30 minutes yet with hair and make up to do. I ordered the same drink I had when down there before and started talking to the gentleman who had asked for the time. His name was Richard and was around 6ft 4 and of medium build he had light brown hair short and tidy and brown eyes. We was chatting about random things such as football and general bloke stuff when he asked if I wanted a drink, I said I needed to get back to the misses.. I can'tremember what it looks like, what a real orgasm feels like. I becomeaware of my stockings. The events of the night playing over and over inmy mind. I fight back tears...a lump in my throat I can't push down. FUCKI'm going to start crying in front of all these people. And then.And then a sense of peace begins to wash over me, a sense of calm. Whatdo I care what all these people think?I only care about what one person thinks, my wife. This is what I askedfor, this is who I am. Sometimes I. So out comes the camera and I sit on the bed willing myself to get a hard-on and keep it there while I take the photo. I have arranged the bedclothes appropriately and I have on some pants. I wouldn’t call them sexy, as they belong to a bloke. Since when do blokes have sexy underwear. Self photography is a hard thing to do, if you have ever tried it. You think sexy thoughts, get a raging hard on by slowly wanking your cock, then you pick up the camera quick, take the picture. Hopefully you take.