Many thanks to Sapphos Sister for the editing.
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Although I'm a lawyer by profession, my passion has always been for more creative and artistic endeavors such as painting and photography. Having received an easel and some canvases as a birthday gift, I decided I would bring my painting gear with me on my next hike into the woods. Surely there would be something interesting for me to paint.
I threw on my Lucky jeans and a white, long-sleeved shirt and set out early in the morning. The rising sun cast long shadows. Overhead, the light breeze ruffled the canopy of leaves, pelting me with dewdrops. In the forest there was a clearing with a stream that I liked to visit, and by the time I got there, my shirt was soaked. I peeled it off and hung it on the back of the easel in the middle of the clearing.
Water rushed over moss-covered stones in the stream while the sun rose above the tree line, warming my broad shoulders and back.
I began by quickly sketching the scene onto my canvas with a soft pencil. By noon, I had nearly completed the painting. Lots of green, some browns but no excitement.
"Something's missing," I thought. I looked around and wondered where the animals were. Normally, I'd see a squirrel, some birds, often deer and occasionally a fox. But today, nothing.
"Guess I have the place to myself," I thought aloud and began to add a couple of gray squirrels to the canvas. Just when I painted the second squirrel, I heard the rustle of leaves behind me. I spun around, shading my eyes to see who was there. The sounds got closer, and I knew before I saw, that there was a small animal coming toward me. Sure enough, two squirrels ran right past me and bounded over the rocks and the stream before disappearing.
I continued to embellish the painting, adding some small birds and a couple of chipmunks. By now, it was positively hot out, so I went to the stream and knelt to splash some cold water on my face and chest. Birds were twittering nearby and a couple of chipmunks squeaked and ran away. That's when I realized: everything I paint has appeared as if by magic. I cupped my hands full of water and poured it over my head. Refreshed, I stood and shook the water off my long, dark, curly hair.
As I walked back to the canvas, some water trickled down my back and my chest. The dripping water felt like light fingertips tracing down my abs, inside my jeans, then down my shaft.
"I wonder..." I said aloud. I began to paint a nude female figure, crouching beside the stream, cupping water in her hands. I gave her light brown hair, pale skin and a full figure. Wishing she too would appear for real, I painted her body in a three-quarter profile so you could see most of her ass but one side of her generous breasts. With my face close to the canvas, I carefully added fine details - the hint of a nipple, the glint of sunlight on her hair, the toned muscles of her shoulders and calves. She was beautiful, like a fairy without the wings. I felt my cock pressing against my jeans as I slowly stroked the tip of my brush between her breasts.
"My God, that's me!" a voice asked, making me jump and drop my palette against my hip. "Oh! Sorry!" she said as I turned to see who had snuck up on me.
"Oh, great!" I said, trying to scrape the paint off my right hip and the front of my jeans. "You startled me!"
"Sorry, sorry! I didn't want to spook you, but then I saw you were painting me, as if you'd seen me in the nude!" the woman of my fantasy spoke. I was trembling with excitement. Was this some sort of new-found magic power, or a dream?
I extended a paint-covered hand to shake and introduced myself, "Rodger Greene."
