Nude Wedding Photos

The first of us to get married was Karl and we gave him a hard time for it, partly because he’d gone over to the dark side but mostly because we found his fiancée somewhat annoying. Nevertheless we showed up at his wedding, ate the obligatory cake and behaved about as well as could have been expected. A couple of weeks later we were in the pub when Karl confided in us that he’d taken some “candid” photos of his new bride on their wedding night. He’d sent them off to be developed (no digital cameras in those days) and had received a letter back from the developer explaining that they couldn’t send that kind of material back to him. Karl showed us the letter but was laughing because he’d ordered a duplicate set of prints and they’d apparently only removed the amateur porn from one set.

We thought no more about this – it wasn’t as though he was offering us a look, and we weren’t exactly queuing up, given the somewhat “industrial” quality of said new bride. About a week later Vic and I called on Karl at his house. It was 2:00pm but it still took us five minutes to wake him; he answered the door in his boxers, invited us in and left us in the living room while he got more presentable. His new spouse was out somewhere, but for all the homely touches in the room, she might as well not have existed. The place looked like there had been al all-night party, followed by a police raid and then three months of neglect. We sat down rather carefully on a sofa; most of the surfaces in the room had discarded clothes on them, and Karl’s cat had been known to shit surreptitiously in the house, the residue sometimes remaining undiscovered for days.

After a minute I realized that on the sofa next to me was a batch of photos in the paper folder from the developer. Driven by base curiosity (and the sound of Karl showering) I opened the folder and flicked through them. Here was a shot of the hotel room; an artistic pose of the bride’s dress on the bed; a blurred photo of the bouquet; a fully erect penis – fucking hell! For the next shot the photographer had pulled back to reveal the owner of the penis – Karl, nude, grinning and still very much erect. We replaced the photographs and, when Karl emerged, managed to convey an attitude of “blokes who have not just viewed disturbing photos of their mate’s dick taken by his wife”. Clearly there had been a reciprocal set of photographs taken by Mrs. Karl, with his woody in the starring role, instead of her hairy hamburger.

The incident would have ended there were it not for some good-natured banter in the Black Horse pub some months later. We were all there, including wife/girlfriends, and Karl was about to reveal to the group some event that I felt he had better shut up about. The only way I could see to stop him was to assert loudly “At least I don’t leave pictures of my erect penis around the house!” Karl blanched as he realized what I meant, and then insisted that the apparent lack of length was due to “foreshortening as a result of the camera angle”. The best reaction, though, was from his new wife, who we later discovered had assumed that we must also have seen the similar pictures of her twat.

It just goes to show – you never know when your domestic porn efforts are going to come back and haunt you. Best steer clear; after all, with the internet now a veritable cornucopia of filth, all categorized to suit your personal taste, who needs amateur muff shots lying around the house?

Copyright 2007 Edward Bison