An Outdoor Photo Session Interrupted

When it comes to sexuality, I dabble in a number of fetishes or turn-ons. I rarely, if ever, take anything to the extreme. Recently, however, I had one of those experiences where "extreme" sort of got handed to me on a silver platter, fulfilling a few fantasies and igniting entirely new ones. Coming across an outdoor erotic photography session will do that to a fellow.

Over the course of the summer, I've been indulging one of my turn-ons by routinely running on the trails around my Western town wearing only a short pair of black mesh running shorts with the lining removed. As you runners know, running shorts tend to be small and lightweight. The shorts material is very thin and moves around a lot when one runs. The internal lining usually keeps everything held tight and unexposed. Remove the liner and things change.

I get a thrill from subtle exhibitionism. Without the lining, when I run my slightly larger than average cock moves freely behind the shorts' light-weight material. The holes in the mesh are tiny enough that it is not obscene to be walking around town in them, but when I run, my cock moves around so much that is obvious I have no underwear on. What's more, if I stand with one leg on a rock or bench, one can see through the mesh enough that one is provided with a perfect silhouette of my uncontained cock.

In all my runs throughout the summer wearing my modified shorts, I never had anyone gasp or make a comment or produce a reaction. In other words, my exhibitionism is more on the subtle side of subtle.

Recently, I decided to combine another of my turn-ons with my skimpy running outfit. For some time I've had a thing for women in g-string panties. I dig these kinds of panties. They show everything and nothing at the same time. Over the summer, I've caught numerous glimpses of thongs and g-strings peeking out from the back of women's low rider jeans and shorts when they're sitting down or bending over. Catching these glimpses has been a never-ending source of erotic fun during these warm months.

On a business trip during mid-summer, I went out shopping after work one day. While in a department store I had a sudden idea to go upstairs to the women's lingerie area and buy a pair of g-string panties for myself. I had never before worn, owned or bought a pair of women's underwear. It was near closing time, so there weren't saleswomen nosing around, thankfully. Once I found the panty area, I sheepishly looked through the round display shelving unit that contained a dozen or so styles of thongs. I relatively quickly picked out two size large g-strings, a white one and a black one. I took them up to a woman behind a register, laid them on the counter and completed the transaction without too much embarrassment.

That evening, I returned to my hotel room and put the panties on. I liked the feeling of having the thin string running up between my ass cheeks. I liked the feeling of the skimpy cotton triangle that barely contained by cock, which seemed to be constantly erect while I had the panties on. Inevitably, however, after wearing the panties for a bit, my balls would slip uncomfortably out the side of the small front triangle of material. But, I still liked having the string between my ass cheeks.

A few days later, after having returned home, I took out the panties and had an idea. I liked wearing the g-strings once in a while (to my surprise), but wasn't keen on how uncomfortable they sometimes were up front. Grabbing a pair of scissors, I laid the panties on my kitchen counter and carefully cut out the triangle of material up front, leaving in place and intact the thicker seams that formed the triangle. I now had two g-strings that were nothing but strings. Now the front of the panties consisted only of a triangle of seams perfectly framing my cock, with nothing left to cover it.

One day I decided to combine the g-string with my skimpy running shorts, figuring I could bolster to my exhibitionistic thrill by adding the additional taboo of a man wearing women's panties in public. Since the shorts were small, I figured I could hike up the strings at the right moments so they were visible above my shorts. That way, when I ran past women, they would clearly see I was wearing a g-string.

One day last week, I put on my running shorts and the white modified g-string and went running on a nearby trail that snakes up a canyon and parallels a mountain stream. The trail dead-ends at private property, the place I usually turn around. This day, however, there had been no one else on the trail, which is unusual. Feeling typically horny and somewhat disappointed I hadn't seen anyone else so far on my run, I decided to continue running up the canyon along a road to a spot I knew people occasionally sunbathed in the nude.

I had heard about this spot along Deer Creek a couple of years before when I was biking by it with a couple of buddies. One of them pointed out the spot and said he had seen people sunbathing naked there. As I recall, he said he'd only seen guys there, which probably explains why I had never returned to see what I could see.

Nonetheless, while on my run up the canyon I decided to check it out. Once off the trail, I ran along the paved road for about ½ mile. The spot was located off a fairly severe right-hand bend in the road. There was a 20-foot high berm between an informal path that ran along the creek's steep bank and the road. The berm and the steep bank together provided a surprising amount of privacy to anyone who might be interested in lying around naked in public there. As I approached the area and prepared to step behind the berm, I noticed there were four cars parked along the road within striking distance of the informal nude sunbathing area.

When I got to the berm, I noticed that in addition to the trail that ran along the creek's bank, there was a clear trail that ran across the top of the berm. Figuring it made sense to scout the area from the vantage point of the berm's top, I climbed the trail and walked along the berm looking down on some of the rock-dotted creek. As I walked along, I noted there was one guy laying nude on his stomach on a large flat rock at the creek's edge. I saw no one else.

After descending the far side of the berm, I proceeded a bit further up canyon along the trail at the creek's edge. I explored a couple of short trails that went off to the water's edge. Most of the trails were empty of sunbathers, but opened to good flat sunning rocks. Just off the far end of the trail, I noted there was another single guy sunbathing nude with his back to the trail. He didn't see me, so I turned tail and headed back the direction I had come.

I walked back toward the end of the berm down-canyon, past the side trail where I saw the first guy. Just before the end of the berm, I spied another side trail that went steeply down the bank to a minor channel of the main creek. I carefully climbed down the embankment to the creek's edge. The creek channel had a minimal amount of water in it, which exposed a number of good foot-sized boulders. Directly across this channel was a wooded island. Above me, to the right, I could see the main channel of the rushing creek. I figured that during high water, this section of the creek would be as inundated with water as the main channel was today. About 15 yards downstream on my left I noticed someone's bag and a towel lying unattended. I wondered where that person was.

Deciding I would try and find a secluded spot to strip down and lay in the warm summer sun, I hopped from rock to rock across the creek, getting nary a foot wet. Once on the heavily wooded and vegetated island, I threaded my way directly across the small island to the far side, which was bordered by the rushing creek. Standing at the water's edge and looking back, I could tell I already was almost entirely obscured from anyone who might be looking toward the island from the trail along the far creek bank. There were so many shrubs, tall grasses and reeds growing up across this small chunk of ground, I had a hard time finding a place to stretch out. From my perch on the water's edge, I stepped down onto some rounded rocks next to the water and scampered upstream, figuring navigating the softball-sized rocks was easier than fighting my way through the skin-grabbing shrubs. After about 10 yards, I found a small, flat area amidst the grasses and foot-tall reeds. A narrow, faint path led away from this small clearing back into the shrubs toward the other side of the island.

Not wanting to strip down without knowing whether anyone lurked about on my island, I walked down the trail and saw that it led back to near the place I had jumped from rock-to-rock to get across the low-water creek channel. Seeing no one, I turned around and returned to the clearing.

Back in the clearing, I looked carefully up and downstream and behind me, again, making sure no one was around. For someone into subtle exhibitionism, I found myself being overly cautious, and a little nervous. Once I was comfortable there was no one around, I hooked my thumps under the sides of my shorts and was about to slide them off when suddenly I heard some rustling coming from directly in front of me, across the creek's rushing waters. Startled, I dropped my hands to my sides and looked up. Just 10 yards across the creek, a totally naked woman walked out from behind a copse of bushes with a fully dressed guy following on her heels.

My first thought was, "She's going to freak when she sees me."

Across the creek, the woman and the guy paused and he started pointing at a spot at the edge of the creek. It was then I realized the guy had two cameras around his neck. I quickly deduced that she must be posing for him. She glanced up and looked in my direction, but made no effort to cover up and showed no outward signs of concern.

In the span of about 10 seconds, I realized I could fulfill my exhibitionist fantasies with virtually no risk. She was naked in public, having pictures taken no less. There was no conceivable way she could be alarmed at my nudity, nor would she have any cause to be judgmental.

So without any real or further thought, and with virtually no delay, I quickly hooked my thumbs again under the sides of my shorts, slid them off, stepped out of them and raised my hands to the sky and stretched. I was now standing outdoors 10 yards from a strange, totally naked woman and a fully dressed man while wearing nothing except for a pair of running shoes and a women's white g-string with no material in front to hide my exposed cock, shaved balls and closely cropped pubic hair. (I started shaving my balls and trimming my pubic hair a couple years ago at the request of a long-time girlfriend who preferred the "clean" look.)

Still facing the woman and the guy, I completed my stretch and looked over at the nude woman and her photographer. They were both looking at me. I followed their gaze and looked down at my thickening, but not obviously aroused, cock surrounded by white strings. I stuck fingers under each side of the g-string and openly adjusted it over my hips, pulling it up a bit between my ass cheeks. Figuring I may as well go for broke, I then turned around, glancing to see that they were still watching me, and bent over with my ass pointing directly at them. Bent at the waist, I spread my t-shirt on the ground, pausing to get it just right and getting turned on thinking they were looking at my spread ass cheeks with a thin, white piece of material barely covering my asshole.

With my shirt spread out, I turned back around and sat down, leaning back on my extended arms. I sat with my knees bent and my feet flat on the ground, with my legs spread so that my cock was totally visible to the two people across the creek. Once I sat down, the woman and the photographer returned to talking about their next shot. The photographer handed her a large, water-worn branch and gestured for her to take position on a rock next to the water and lean on the branch. He appeared to be going for some sort of "woman in nature" vibe.

As she took position on the rock, she turned again to face me across the creek. I took this opportunity to gaze at her body and assess this nude woman. As my eyes were hidden by very dark sunglasses, I felt I could stare at her without her knowing exactly where I was looking. She appeared to be in her early-to-mid twenties. She had a nice body with smallish, well-shaped breasts, curvy hips and no hint of cellulite. She had a round Celtic-looking tattoo on her upper right thigh. Her face had perfect features, with a small nose, straight white teeth and a sexy small mole near the left corner of her mouth. She had brown, straight hair, which was pinned up on top of her head. She was not even wearing shoes.

As she was getting positioned on the rock while holding this very large branch, the photographer, wearing sandals, walked into the creek and took up position about eight feet downstream of her. To my great surprise and delight, neither of them had yet so much as acknowledged by presence. I figured she would ask the photographer to ask me to leave. After all, what nude model wants a strange, naked guy sitting 10 yards away watching her get her picture taken?

Now in place, the photographer started telling her how to stand, how to hold the branch and so on, all the while snapping pictures. I just sat there, my cock in plain sight dangling between my spread thighs, staring at this naked woman. I'd never seen such a thing, ever. Sure, I've seen girlfriends gallivanting naked in the woods while camping, and such. But, I've never sat and blatantly watched an attractive stranger walking around naked in the woods.

For a good seven minutes or so, the photographer pointed and snapped pictures and the naked woman shifted and posed. All the while, I sat there and watched. A couple of times, I changed positions, one time laying on my side, my ass pointing their direction with my shaved balls peeking out between my legs and a slim white strip of material running up between my ass cheeks. At one point, I stood up, stretched again (making sure to stand there long enough to make sure she saw me) and stepped onto a rock about six inches into the creek. On this rock, I squatted and began splashing water all over my nude body. I rubbed the water over my chest, my arms, my shaved balls, my ass. I then stood up and returned to my sitting spot.

Finally, the photographer must have gotten what he wanted. He and the model regrouped and he pointed upstream, then right at me. Due to the roar of the rushing stream, I couldn't hear what he was saying. I sat up, again with my knees up and my legs spread, my cock fully exposed to the strangers. Next thing I knew, she was gingerly stepping into the creek and walking directly at me. I figured they must be headed to my clearing to get on the little path back that led across the small island. Wearing sandals, the photographer began walking next to her across the creek. He quickly overtook her, as she was having some trouble navigating the underwater rocks barefoot. When the photographer, a rotund, ruddy-faced fellow, was a few feet away, I said, "Sorry for the intrusion." He replied nonchalantly, "No problem. If you get in the way of any shots, I'll give you a shout." I responded by saying, "Don't worry, I'm happy to stay well out of camera range!" With that, he turned upstream, walking on the rocks on my side of the creek. Pleasantly surprised at his jovial demeanor, I turned my attention back to the nude woman trying to walk across this rocky, swiftly flowing creek. She was now about five feet from me, looking down trying to determine where next to put her feet. I took a moment to look at the special place between her legs. She was almost totally shaven, save for a thin strip of hair emerging from the tip of her clit.

Still sitting there nearly nude, except for my white g-string, I said to her, "You ought to negotiate for a pair of sandals."

She smiled and mumbled something about her feet. Wanting to prolong the moment, I loudly said, "What?" She turned, looking again at me and repeated, "It's OK, I've got tough feet," and she turned and began walking upstream. Watching her ass as she walked away, I stood up to see where she and the photographer were headed. Due to the heavy vegetation, after just a few feet they were out of sight.

Bummed that the close-up show was over, I unconsciously reached down and took hold of my cock. It was at about half-mast, having gotten that way as I stared at her ass moving away.

Wanting to prolong my voyeuristic pleasure, I grabbed my shorts and stepped into them, picked up my shirt and strode across the small island, across the rocks of the other creek channel and climbed the bank to the path that ran alongside. I walked about 15 yards down the trail and through a break in the trees. I could see the nude model and her photographer again. Now she was laying in a pool of water at the far edge of the creek. She was lying with her arms crossed just below her bare breasts. The photographer was picking and tossing leaves in the still water around her, hoping, I expected, to add to the "natural" feel of the shot. Noting they were just a bit upstream from the tip of the island I had just left, I walked back down the path to the cut in the creek bank that led down to the low-water channel. After climbing down, I realized I had a clear line of sight to the photography session from the base of the steep bank. I sat down on a sun-warmed rock, stripped off my shorts again and lay back in the sun watching.

I'm not sure how this naked woman managed to stay so still in such chilly, mountain stream water, but she managed to lay there for a good 10 minutes as the photographer maneuvered for a variety of angles and shots, all the while laying there with her breasts exposed to prying eyes, like mine. At last, at the direction of the photographer, she again stood, giving me another and welcome full-body view. Together they made their way along the far stream bank and disappeared from sight behind the islands' dense vegetation. I sat there nearly nude, save for my g-string, on my warm rock contemplating the sexy scene I'd been witnessing for the last half hour or so.

Shaking me from my thoughts, the photographer emerged from the path on the small island I had walked on a little while ago. As he stepped down onto a rock to cross the creek, he nodded in my direction and made his way across the creek. I quickly realized that the pile of clothes and other items 20 yards downstream must belong to he and his model.

As the photographer made his way to his belongings, the model stepped from behind a large cottonwood tree on the island and carefully climbed down the low bank to the rocks below. I watched her closely as she stood on the first rock contemplating where to make her next step. At last, she seemed to figure out which rock to step on and lunged to a large flat rock about 10 yards from me. She leaped with startling grace. She was close enough that when she landed, I could see her breasts gently sway at impact. I felt mesmerized as this attractive, strange nude woman walked right by me. After her lunge, she briefly looked at me and half-smiled before returning her focus to moving rock-to-rock back to her things.

Although partially obscured by big rocks, I could see enough that I knew she had put on a shirt and must be readying to leave. Disappointed my private show was over, I decided to give her one last, unobstructed view of my naked body and unconventional underwear.

I stood up from my sunny spot and with t-shirt and shorts in hand, I walked across the rocks back to the small island. I now was across the creek channel and 15 yards or so upstream from the model and photographer. Facing them, I paused to make sure she looked up before I disappeared through the vegetation on the island. After standing there for a few seconds, she looked up. I reached down and nonchalantly scratched my upper thigh, drawing, I hoped, her gaze to my exposed cock. I then pretended that I had dropped something, turned around, bent over and began looking for the imaginary thing I had dropped. I spent, maybe, 15 seconds in that position, reveling in the sexy feeling of having that thin strip of material drawn tight against my asshole, before standing up and walking down the island's trail to the spot where I first saw the model and photographer.