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This story was written for Ebni as part of my Patreon request days for the month of December 2018. It contains M/Solo masturbation and M/F sex between consenting adults. :3

The Perfect Vintage

"Oh my god, Gillian... oh my fucking god!"

Russell's hands were shaking as he pulled the magazines out of the delicate tissue paper in which they had been enshrined by their prior owner. He himself was wearing pristine white gloves, and had already ensured that all drinks and other sources of potential contamination had been removed from the coffee table before even daring to open up his wife's gift. And now that he had, he was immensely glad of that fact, because the magazines in front of him weren't just some interesting additions to his collection, or spares that he could put out on display while putting the more pristine versions of the same issues into long term storage. They were pieces of the same series that had started his collection. Some of the rarest vintage magazines of the mid twentieth century, and more than that, some of the rarest issues of that already rarely seen series.

"Oh. Oh m-my... issue eleven. You found issue... oh, Gillian."

The badger stared at his wife in absolute wonder, but before long his eyes were drawn away from the maned wolf and back down to the magazine currently almost cradled within his hands. The magazine whose paper was still crisp and clean without watermarks or folds. The front cover whose image was still bright and unfaded by light exposure, with the distinctive paper quality and period photo resolution that marked it as a product of its time rather than a reprint of forgery, unless of course it was absolutely exceptionally forged. But while the cover bearing an image of a wolf woman in cowboy boots, white lace panties and nothing more was familiar to Russell's expert eye and well versed memory, the interior of this particular magazine was a mystery to him. Of the twenty six issue run of the 1950s 'Women Unbound' magazine, twenty five issues were digitised and available in various qualities online. Russell himself had physical copies of seventeen issues, or rather, he had until today, when that number had jumped to twenty. But... to see this particular issue, to see issue eleven resting in his hands, and to know that other than the front cover no pages of it were believed to have survived by himself or any member of the worldwide vintage erotica enthusiast community, it put the rest of his collection and the rest of this incredible, wonderful gift from his wife to shame.

"Russ?"

Blushing as he dragged his eyes away from that bare breasted wolf whom the front cover proclaimed to be 'Leapin' Lizzie', the badger beamed with gratitude and curiosity at the woman he loved, and who loved him not even in spite of his interests, but with them as a part of who he was.

"Yeah, Jilly?"

The maned wolf slipped off the armchair where she had been sitting since first handing her husband the gift, sliding down to the floor on her long, slender legs and crawling forward to sit directly beside Russell upon the floor. She stroked his arm with one hand, and ran her fingers along the back of his neck with the other.

"Would you like to open it up? Read it a bit? I... I could help you."

His eyes widened, and he whimpered loudly.

"Gillian, I... I shouldn't. It's so rare. So pristine. I shouldn't read it until I can set up a clean room space. Until I can get my gear together, my tongs for page turning and..."

His voice trailed off as his wife's left hand drifted down his arm and over his chest, heading further and further south rapidly until finally she was groping at his crotch, and the substantial, firm bulge already present there. A deep groan escaped the badger's lips, and he shuddered as his wife whispered in his ear.

"Even I haven't looked inside. Russ, if you look at those pictures, you'll be the first person in decades to do so. If you... if we pleasure you looking at them, you'll be the first person in all the world to cum to those beautiful ladies, to show admiration for their dedication to their craft at a time when it was way more taboo than it is even today, for... god, how long do you think it's been. Fifty years? Don't those ladies deserve some attention? Don't those pictures deserve to be seen now, after waiting all this time?"

Russell swallowed thickly, and without speaking another word, he nodded. Within moments his wife was behind him. Unbuttoning his shirt and teasing it off while leaving his gloves on. Unfastening his pants, not lowering them entirely, just coaxing them down alongside the front of his underwear to expose the badger's firm, plump erection.

"Open it."

She whispered to him, leaving his hands free to deal with the magazine while the fingers of one of her own paws reached down and began to caress his cock. The other stroked his slightly rounded belly, and she giggled as even when he simply touched the front cover and slipped the tip of one thumb beneath it, an indulgent moan escaped his lips as though he was breaking some unspeakable taboo. The first page held a contents list which alone was enough to make Russell's cock strain as his eyes drank in the titles of each image or short story as they were listed, and a racy but non-nude photo of a tanuki cuddling her own tail. He turned the page, and for a moment Gillian truly believed he was going to cum right then and there as he saw the first spread of images, full page with small mono-coloured boxes of text to provide some background. On the left an enormously busty and plump sheep lay sprawled out on what looked like the floor of a hayloft, a hat over her face as though sleeping and her woollen coat shorn to bare skin in all but a few rings around her wrists and ankles. Her legs lay spread open, and her pussy fully exposed. On the right, a lean otter lay upon silk sheets in what looked like a penthouse suite, idly fondling one erect nipple as she stretched out one leg while keeping the other bent, showing off every bit as much as the first lady. An attached vignette explained that they were a country girl and a city girl who each craved the life the other had, but deep down just wanted a woman to share any kind of life with, so long as it was theirs to live freely.

Gillian giggled as she read along with her husband and felt his cock straining more and more urgently against her gentle stroking. It was no wonder really that this magazine had been cancelled before it reached even three years of monthly publication. It was insanely forward thinking for its time, promoting not just overt pornography of a kind that seemed far too hardcore for the fifties, but also surprisingly forward thinking views with regard to lesbian and bisexual relationships. She kissed the back of her husband's neck as he shuddered, suggesting that he'd reached the end of the little story and its all too sensuous final suggestions of what the two ladies might do when they met, with pictures of that encounter featured later in the same issue.

"Wanna keep going, or... enjoy this page a little more?"

She felt Russell quake against her again, and giggled as his hand on the edge of the next page reached down towards the paper several times only to draw back with uncertainty, as though by turning over the page he would be insulting these two women, but undeniably eager to see what else this magazine had to offer. Finally though he made up his mind, and flipped over to the next pair of pages. They were gorgeous, but with less of a story to capture Russell's attention he flipped over once again about a minute later, then a second time maybe two minutes after that. The page he landed upon next however... his reaction to that was immediate and utterly unabashed. He had barely laid the page out flat when Gillian felt him tense up from head to toe. A substantial trickle of pre-cum oozed out over the maned wolf's fingers, and he grunted pleadingly to the woman masturbating him.

"Harder. Faster, please."

Gillian looked down at the page, and immediately realised why. She giggled, and obliged her husband without any hesitation. Ever since she'd first learned about his penchant for vintage erotica, she had known one name. Bella Ventura. A woman with whom Russell had not just a fondness, not anything so salacious as an obsession, but... well, he loved her. While he'd only ever read about her in articles and retrospectives, not to mention an unlicensed but thoroughly researched biography, he loved her as much as he loved any person who was present and active in his life, including Gillian herself. She was a badger like him, and she'd made a career in the mid twentieth century porn industry from the late forties right through to the seventies, in photographs, film and even a very short lived live pornographic theatre career. She had her own comic book in the sixties, an animated short where she loaned her own voice... or at least her orgasmic screams to the role, and even a vinyl album of over an hour of recorded masturbation sessions, of which digital copies still existed to this day.

It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that Russell had probably jerked off to pictures of Bella Ventura more times than he had fucked Gillian, considering that he'd been a fan of the badger's work from basically the very moment he'd been aware of his own sexuality. He'd almost certainly masturbated to every last available picture and frame of movie footage available featuring her naked body. But, with this issue of this magazine having been lost to the ages until now... the images of her spread out across this page were untouched, virgin territory.

He had never seen these pictures before.

Never masturbated to them.

And now... now he was drinking them in with unabashed gasps and moans, as his wife's hand flew hurriedly across his cock with all the devoted intensity she knew that this moment deserved.

"Oh. Ohh... Bella..."

He moaned as he stared in awe at the badger kneeling upright in front of the camera, legs spread, one arm reaching down and parting the outer lips of her pussy while a single digit lingered on the exposed, swollen nub of her clit. Russell stared at her face, at the expression of pleasure, of lust, of delight to be where she was, doing what she was doing and making a living from it, etched over every last bit of her beautiful features, youthful and yet already utterly unabashed in this relatively early edition of her work.

"You can see what she wants, can't you, Russ?"

He shuddered and gasped, shaking his head bashfully, moaning pleadingly as his wife whispered to him, knowing full well what she meant of course but wanting to hear her say it. Gillian giggled, and did so with another kiss to the back of her lover's neck.

"She wants you to cum, Russ. She wants you to look at her. To see her for the brave and beautiful woman she is, and... oh, Russ, to show her how she makes you feel. Cum for her, Russell."

The badger's back arched, and Gillian tilted his cock a little further down as she worked it just to make sure she didn't actually fire his cum like a howitzer shell right up and over the table onto the pristine magazine. He wailed, so very close to losing control, but the name that escaped his lips wasn't the one that Gillian expected in that moment.

"Jilly!!"

She blushed, and moaned tenderly in genuine arousal of her own, letting him know that she was here and just as invested in this moment in her own way as he was. But then she whispered to him, and teasingly diverted his thoughts in a way that most wives probably would never have thought to do, away from her and onto another woman.

"Not for me, Russ. Not this one. You're the only man who has seen this picture for decades. The only person to appreciate it, to love it, to be feeling pleasure because of it. This picture was made for you to masturbate to. For you to cum looking at. Bella is posing for you, rubbing her clit in that picture because she wants you to cum. So... do it for her, Russell. Cum for Bella. Scream for Bella. Please, Russ. She needs you to. She needs your cum. Now, honey!"

Russell bellowed the most volatile, strained and altogether rapturous cry that Gillian had ever heard her husband or any other man let loose, and she gave a soft yelp of her own joyous shock as she cupped her free hand just beyond the tip of his cock to try and save the carpet from a shampooing, only for the first spurt of cum to hit it a split-second later to splash out and over its cupped palm with greater force and abundance than she had ever seen or felt Russell issue forth before. His body began to shake, and he lurched forward in several spasms that made it look like he was going to topple entirely over and land face first in the magazine. Each burst of cum to erupt from his cock was as powerful and potent as the last, and as Gillian felt him flood her hand entirely and start to soak the carpet below, not to mention the underside of the coffee table with yet more thick ribbons of seed, she moaned and growled softly in anticipation of what always followed the occasions when Russell got particularly worked up by an image or a story that he read in one of these magazines.

Still jerking her husband off, still watching him shoot yet more cum and listening to him moan and whimper to Bella in utter devotion and elation, she considered how tonight he would come to bed to find her in that exact position which Bella was holding on the page. She imagined his face when she spoke to him in the voice she always put on for Bella, a sort of soft, sultry Marilyn Monroe type whisper, and then she moaned as she considered what he'd do. What he always did to her when she took on the character of one of his favourites. Nibbling on her bottom lip, the maned would felt her pussy quiver as she thought about how many times _she_was going to cum tonight because of this picture.

For right now though, she was happy for it to be about Bella rather than herself. Happy to let Russell drink in the images of the other badger to his heart's content, both because she knew it would make him ever so happy to do so... and also because she knew that the more deeply he grew invested in those pictures right now, the more intensely he would react when she brought her version of Bella to life with him later on that night.

By Jeeves

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