Jen walked into the woods. The summer sun filtered through the broadleaf canopy.
She danced, twirled, and jumped like a child. The skin she exposed with each of her actions showed she was all woman. A lush sexual woman happy in her own skin.
I walked behind with my camera phone taking photos, Occasionally asking her to repeat an action.
Jen wore all of five items of clothing. A pair of trainers, a pair of socks and her summer dress.
It had thin spaghetti straps that kept slipping off her shoulder promising a glimpse of the b cup. perfection that it partially concealed.
The hemline would have been mid-thigh on most women. On Jen's five-foot nine frame it just covered her bottom provided she stood still like a statue.
She pirouetted in front of me. Showing everything from her belly button down. Her well kept bush of auburn, perched on her mons.
The hemline of the dress flaying out almost as wide as the hair on her head. One moment golden, the next dark and deadly as the effects of komorebi played across her head.
We were well beyond the popular dog walking trails now. The sound of people's conversation had disappeared. All we could hear was the gentle creak of mature beech in the breeze and bird song in the wind.
Jen had slowed down her movements but had not stopped her exposure. Her hemline rose again as she dealt with an apparent itch on her right butt cheek.
I took a quick set of photos reminiscent of the famous tennis player. Her dress raised, a pale freckled bottom on show.
