Going into work had never been fun for you. Your larger frame coupled with the predominantly male work force meant that harassment was a regular part of your work day. Than the pandemic had hit and you had been able to work in blessed peace, lounging around in your pajamas, your desk messy as you’d like, basic hygiene now an option as opposed to a requirement. You began to take regular walks and explore your neighborhood finding that a small park with branching trails that lead into the nearby forested mountains was right around the corner. It had become a regular attraction for you especially because few others seemed to gather their. Most days on your lunch break you could be found lounging under your favorite tree shielded by a myriad of greenery creating a viridian wall between you and any others participating in nature that day. You had the feeling of a spy as you watched the few people coming and going, a barely visible holes sprinkled with beams of light your only windows to the rest of the world. With this new destination helping you to establish a routine your life began to take on a comforting regiment as the days blended together in that ever churning mixer that is time. The only worries you had were that one day the pandemic would end and you would have to start interacting with people again.
Than one day a new face appeared at your park. He was thin, dark skinned, with short hair and carried with him an easel, a canvas, paint supplies, a tripod and a backpack. He meandered around looking for something stopping every once in awhile to glance at the sun than holding up the canvas, only to shake his head and continue searching. By fortune or coincidence he landed himself right in front of you an opening like a porthole allowing you a perfect view of all his actions.
You were worried at first that he might notice your presence and you would be forced to find a new spot but he didn’t notice being too preoccupied with setting his things up optimally. He set up the easel and canvas first before standing the tripod up and attaching a tablet to the top, you noticed he positioned it just so that the tablet was cast in shadow by the sun while the canvas was fully illuminated. Hitting a switch his tablet came to life and with a few flicks of the wrist and swipes of the finger a beautiful blonde woman appeared, spread out on a fur rug completely exposed. You blushed as your temperature rose. You knew the polite thing to do was move, he clearly hadn’t intended for you to see this, he probably had picked this spot because he assumed no passerby would see what he was going to paint, his back shaded by the foliage. Which brought up the question, what was he going to paint?
He took a moment to study the woman on the tablet for a second before putting brush to canvas. You assumed he would simple be reproducing the picture from the tablet onto the canvas but found multiple other figures, men from the outlines, coming to life as well. You watched transfixed as several men appeared all nude their hard members pointed to a feminine figure he drew in the middle. Than the woman from the tablet appeared still naked but possessed by passion astride a large muscular man, riding him in the middle of the group, each hand gripped the shaft of two penises while her tilted head gargled another’s balls. It wasn’t until your pants button popped that you realized you had your hands down your pants fingering your wet juicy clit. You knew you shouldn’t be doing this, it was risky, invasive, not to mention illegal. Yet as the painter continued to add the fine details making the subjects almost jump off the page, you knew you couldn’t stop yourself. You went around and around, your clit becoming engorged at your touch, your pussy juices fell like dew mixing with your wild bush and dripping down to you crack. You watched him paint furiously the image coming alive in your head before your muscles tensed and you bit down a groan as sweet and juices enveloped you. You slumped back onto the grass as quietly as possible trying not to draw attention to yourself. The thought of what you had just done and how another might react was all that enabled you to pick up your stuff and head home swearing to never return to that park.
Until the next day of course and you found yourself under that same tree watching the artist paint another beautiful woman in an erotic scene this one taking place in an Asian inspired red light district. The next his subject was a man servicing others at a gloryhole. An orgy at a ranch was his subject the day after that. This pattern continued for awhile, you always touching yourself, swearing you wouldn’t, that you’d just watch but somehow always finding yourself quaking from an orgasm by the end. The only thing that changed on your end was how far down you lowered your pants until you eventually just said fuck it and took them off all together. You found you enjoyed the feel of cool grass on your exposed ass, something particularly exciting about the idea of the juices from your sex watering the grass. Not to mention the thrill of knowing that you could be caught at any moment exposed like that. Goosebumps cover you at the thought.
The artist for his part attacked each painting with the same vigor, so entranced was he by his work that he never noticed you even when you stopped muffling your screams, though you did use your old mouth guard from high school to muffle yourself. You also found that he didn’t always paint erotic portraits, some times he painted more wholesome things like families on vacation or wedding photos. Though he set upon these task with his usual zeal those days you left the park completely dry. You don’t know for how long this lasted, a few weeks or a month or two but one day you found a surprise waiting for you in your spot. A tripod with a camera atop it and a note attached to it. You knew it wasn’t the painted because he hadn’t arrived yet and their was only one way in and out of the park. Despite your better instincts you shakily grabbed the note and began to read.
“This note is intended for the beautiful goddess who pleasures herself under this tree. I have seen you now for several days and find myself enamored by you. You seem to me the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes upon. I long to know you more intimately but know you would find me repulsive so I humbly ask that you simple turn on this camera and leave the SD card for me to retrieve later. The camera is yours to keep. I have left a gift hidden where you usually sit that you are free to take whether you oblige me or not. I hope that you will though, if not I understand and know that watching you has been…” the note continued with the flattery for quite some time, you skimmed the rest of the note but saw nothing else of value. Not sure what your plan was just yet, you decided to see what this ‘gift’ was. It turned out to be a beautiful white gold necklace with a large emerald pendant. You weren’t an expert on jewelry by any measure but you knew if it was real it would probably go for a couple thousand. You put it on and found it hung perfectly between your breasts, the metal cool and soothing to the touch.
You plopped down on the grass unsure what to do next. What would that say about you if you pleasured yourself on camera for a stranger, what if it ended up on the internet? The thought both terrified and intrigued you. You always admired the freedom and confidence certain woman in porn (particularly the amateur variety.) had. You thoughts went back and forth like a ping pong ball shooting across the table smacked by expert players. You thought you might get a migraine when you saw the painter arrive. A beautiful tall tan Amazonian goddess with long orange curls and a matching bush greeted you from his tablet.
That picture sealed the deal. Gulping you flicked on the camera, the red light by the lens signaling it’s ON status and seeming to you the eye of your voyeur. Maybe because you knew someone was watching you took off everything today, stretching hard to touch your toes while unassumingly spreading your cheeks for your admirer. The breeze kissed your skin as you positioned yourself under the tree. Now fully exposed you found yourself not only massaging your vulva but your other hand fluttering across your breasts and stomach. Pinching your nipples in the brisk air made you release a slight shutter. You felt the moisture building between your lips as you dipped your fingers inside enjoying the texture and sound of the sticky liquid only a woman can create as you began to gently rub your swelling clit.
The painter was already in a frenzy, on the canvas you could see the ginger haired woman standing up right as one man prostrated himself before her, her sex engulfing his face as her juices splashed across torso running down to his navel. Another man was positioned behind her, his enlarged phallus pumping into her sex while he cupped a breast in each hand. His face was nuzzled deep into the curve of her neck. You could see the scene as if it was happening before you, the two men working in tandem to please their goddess, your circles became quicker, more vigorous as you imagined the one man thrusting into her, her juices splashing across his penis and dripping from his balls as the other man lapped frantically at her clit, his own hand stroking himself using her dripping juices as lubricant. The image was so vivid you might as well have been hallucinating, your hand became a circular blur, your nipples were pinched blue, your body convulsed and you shot up straight a moan for the ages thundering from your diaphragm as an orgasm electrified the rest of your body leaving you a trembling mess.
You were so loud in fact this time you managed to draw the attention of the painter. Your eyes locked, both of you stunned as you acknowledged one another. You stared at each other for a long moment, two animals encountering each other for the first time.
Knowing that you had to retreat before he called the police or someone else did, you grabbed your clothes and bolted praying for the first time in your life that no one was around to see your naked escape. You circled around the public restroom and hastily put on your clothes before bolting home. It was only when the adrenaline had worn off and you had stopped shaking long enough to gulp down some water that you remembered the video camera.
Thank you for reading. If this one is popular enough I have ideas for how to continue it. Tips and subs are always appreciated.
About the Creator
JR Stine
Just your average working dude with a passion for the written word. Working on a book but always looking for free lance work in between. Hope you’ll stop by and take a gander at what I’ve got to offer.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.