Sunset Pics

I couldn't – I just couldn't. I was in a public park after all. But it was clear that no one was around. I was miles out and I really wanted to. The idea tugged at me. I dismissed it and admired the view, but it wouldn't stop pestering me. Just do it – just do it. Subtly I decided; subtly do it.

I had a new digital camera in my backpack and I had always wanted to take nude shots outdoors. I had admired many on the internet and had a special interest in scenery shots. I had once taken a few yoga shots at the beach and enjoyed every aspect. I could still vividly imagine the day and the fun a girlfriend and I had taking the pics of each other. We were clothed in tight yoga garb, but we had shared fantasies otherwise (without the tight yoga garb, that is). We hadn't done anything, but my mind wrapped itself around the fantasy of the moment often, and I felt a few of the pics captured that. Right now I was alone, but that was okay. I was fully prepared to play with my camera all by myself, having already mastered the tripod and timer.

I thoroughly surveyed my scene and decided I definitely had to have the emerging lights of the city that were just beginning to glow more brightly than the setting sun. Part of the lure was in the display, being bare against humanity, even if it was a distant humanity. Well, I speculated, someone could have binoculars. A long shot, but I liked to think I was taking a risk – just not too large of a risk -- stepping out to the wild side, so to speak. Oh, what a rebel I am!

I set up my silver portable tripod and framed the camera's view with two skinny trees behind me. They were perfectly parted as if for a hammock and didn't block the view, but I could tell exactly where I should be with them on either side. I was wearing a short wrap yoga skirt and spaghetti-strap tank tee very similar to what I had worn for my beach pics. I had tried to avoid getting my feet in the pic as I was wearing my hiking boots. I far preferred bare feet, but I wasn't up to being quite so compromised. I felt safer being able to normally assemble myself at a moment's notice, and unlike my skirt, my boots were rather time-consuming to put back in place.

I had already decided I wanted two kinds of shots: mooning the camera and mooning the city. I hadn't thought much beyond that. I rushed to try one as I wasn't certain how long I'd be alone. I set my timer and ran flushed to my spot just in time to flip my skirt, exposing my red thong with a sassy upswing in the direction of the lens. Beep – beep – beep – click. There it was. I was so excited to go see. I pranced back and pressed the preview button. I was pleased with the results. The lighting was sensational, and the little strip of crimson down my cheeks tied me into the colors of the horizon.

I set the timer again and made my mark, but this time I flipped slightly to the left with my hands on my thigh tops, Marilyn Monroe-style. I even pursed my lips and waited. "Here's lookin' at 'ya!" Beep – beep – beep – click. I bounced back over for the preview, with which I was once again very pleased. I grew wet with the idea of sharing the pics with those I chose, sharing both my secret and my thrill. I surveyed the landscape again, and satisfied that I was indeed still alone, I continued.

After a few more shots, I sat in the grass. I was thoroughly worked up not only sexually, but I was also breathing heavily from prancing back and forth to reset the camera. I squirmed around, pushing my pussy to the ground, thinking of just how satisfying it would be to be fucked outside. I could feel my excitement mount, and my hand was drawn up my skirt, around my underwear, and to the inside folds of my lips. I rubbed and exhaled. It would be nice to indulge for just a few minutes. I couldn't bring myself to lie back completely; I fixated on the trail to my place on the hill and let my focus blur. The world turned into a kaleidoscope and I marveled and the intensity of my inner focus – a lens between my passion and my reality had shifted. Normally I saw passion filtered through my reality; now I was seeing my reality filtered through passion. Was this a place I had actually been before? My thoughts bounced between my shifting perspectives: "Just take it home. No! Just bang it out." I couldn't truly decide, but in the end the second option opportunistically won and in less than five minutes of tightening inward and rhythmic fingering, I spilled over with delicious waves while my mind provided the diversion I had needed to build up the courage to do such a thing.

My vision began to sharpen and my perspective suddenly flipped back to normal as I noticed the prickly grass itch I had given my bottom. Ridiculous! I had to laugh at myself, as I mentally stepped out of myself and surveyed the scene. I was leaning back on one arm looking down my thighs at a patch of grass I had worn flat. I followed the line up to my knees and curved back down to my boots, which grounded me absurdly to my outsider's view. I was completely disheveled and breathless, hard pieces of dirt poke-sticking dimple-like into my skin. I stood up brushing the little hard dirt clods from my skin and smoothed down my skirt, wiping the wetness from my fingers by rolling them around inside my hem. Indeed, I was very amused with myself.

I decided to cap it off with one more pic of my bare crimson bottom all speckled with grass indentations. I pulled my wet thong down, stretching each side over my boots. I dropped it by the tripod, noting its plunk onto the ground. As I set the shot up, I wondered how visible it would be with most of the light almost gone. Perhaps it would look like the dream it was. Noting the tight beat in my still flushed breathing, I skipped back to my place between the trees and repeated what had been interrupted by my starling impulsiveness.

Then, although the coast was clear, I thanked my luck and packed. I felt exhilarated and very much looked forward to having the time to myself to walk back down in the gathering darkness. I was not disappointed.

Two surprising things happened later.

First, I was pleasantly surprised by the result of my final photo, which happened to become one of my all-time-favorite photos because it never failed to turn my on when I looked at it even though it was me. It was a weird blend of knowing exactly how I felt and knowing it was me but somehow feeling it wasn't me. It was me outside of me. I really didn't even fully recognize my own face. I wouldn't deny it was me, but it just didn't look like me to me. I really liked that. I also liked the coloring very much because the shadows of the grass lines and pokes had blended in an interesting way with the reddened color of my skin and the sky, like a divine spanking. And to top is all off, it was simply lusciously sexy. There was nothing posed about it all – passion, joy, and exhilaration were shining through unfiltered altogether. Who wouldn't want to gaze at that combination and not push the imprint to mind?

The second surprising thing that happened several months later while browsing through a favorite voyeur-photo website when I actually thought I spied a familiar setting in a group of thumbnails but from a slightly different perspective.