I owe a big debt of gratitude to my editor Cheer_Smartie526, especially for helping with the ending.
The weather was perfect. The sun was shining and a warm breeze was causing the branches of a nearby tree to sway back and forth. Misty peeled off her shirt and relished the feeling of the sun's warmth on her full breasts. She glanced around to make certain she was alone. She had no qualms about anyone seeing her naked and what she was doing was technically not illegal. However not every park ranger or game warden interpreted the law the way she did, so she preferred to err on the side of caution.
She had been to the nearby clothing-optional resort, but today she was not in the mood to endure the stares and gawks that her trim body attracted. Satisfied no one was watching, she slipped her shorts and panties off and then reclined on her blanket. As she lay on the edge of a small pond she looked up at the clouds, trying to pick up shapes and images as they floated overhead. She had been playing her little cloud game for about fifteen minutes when she heard someone approaching. She rolled over and peered out from her hiding place in the tall grass. A solitary figure trudged across the field. He appeared to be completely unaware of her presence. He walked to the base of a large tree and dropped his pack. He was wearing camouflage clothing, so Misty guessed he was either a hunter or bird watcher. She watched as he scrambled up the tree. A thin cord trailed from his belt down to his pack. Once he was perched on a thick branch about halfway up the tree he pulled his pack up using the cord.
Misty wondered if the man's new vantage point would allow him to see her. She smiled when he took off the camouflage head covering; she wanted to see the expression on his face if he saw her. He wasn't bad looking, which made watching him a bit more enjoyable. From his bag emerged a device she recognized as a tree stand. Once he had it in place he sat on it and reached back into the bag. Misty thought the next item would tell her what he was doing in the tree. If he pulled out binoculars or a bird book then he would be a bird watcher, a camera would indicate wildlife photographer, and anything else would probably be a hunter. She watched him pull a small instrument from the bag and held it to his face. He looked through it then made a note on his pad. He looked through it again, and then made another note. After a few minutes Misty realized what he was doing. She huffed. The device was a rangefinder, and he was noting the distance to various points in the field. It meant he was a hunter, probably scouting out a blind for whatever season was approaching. Misty did not approve of hunting, she thought nature could take care of itself with humanity interfering.
Vance made one last scan of the field from his tree stand. Next week he would be back with his bow for a special hunt. The park had a problem with feral hogs and the hunt was part of a trial program to eliminate the problem. It was archery only, the limited range of the bow and arrow meant smaller sections of the park needed to be closed to the public. From his vantage point in the tree Vance could see the ruts in the ground from the hogs. He carefully recorded the distance to each rut after measuring it with the rangefinder. The device was not really needed; it served only to confirm his estimates.
When he turned his attention to the small pond just north of the tree he did a double take. Lying in the tall grass was a naked woman. Her head and shoulders were masked by the vegetation, but he could clearly see from the small of her back all the way to her heels. Vance dug out his binoculars to get a closer look. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her leg move slightly. Then he wondered if she had noticed him.
It was pretty clear he had seen her. Misty lifted her leg slightly, least the guy in the tree thought he had stumbled onto a body that had been dumped. Peering through the blades of grass she watched his jaw drop at the moment he saw her. She was slightly annoyed when he pulled out binoculars to gawk at her. He lowered them after only a few seconds. Either he was satisfied she was not dead or he had figured out she could see him.
Misty decided since her quiet solitude had been violated she would see if she could shame him into leaving with a little show. Misty rolled over onto her back, and then sat up. She remained upright just long enough for him to know that her upper body was just as naked as her legs, then she lurched forward so that she was on her hands and knees. If she was going to get stared at she planned on making it quite an event. Misty wriggled her ass, wondering if she was embarrassing him or turning him on. She stretched out until she was lying down again, and then rolled onto her back. Misty raised her head just enough to see him. The image of him framed by her breasts, sitting motionless in his tree stand was almost comical. Misty wondered what was going through his mind.
Vance pinched himself. He wasn't dreaming. His relief that it wasn't a dead body lying next to the pond was turning to confusion. What the hell was this chick doing? She had to be on some kind of drug. In a way he was trapped. He did not want to be on the ground if she freaked out and started screaming. Vance knew there was no way standing in a field with a screaming naked woman he did not know could end well. Once he confirmed she was alive he had lowered his binoculars, not wanting to look like a pervert. At the same time he could not bring himself to look away. She had a nice body; that much he was sure of. The slope of the ground meant that his view of her face was blocked by her breasts. He could see just the top of her head, but nothing more.
It was still a nice day, and Misty considered just ignoring the intruder. She could see that he was not leaving his spot. Just relaxing in the sun was certainly an option, at least until he started to move. Misty decided to have some fun with the stranger. She put her hands on her breasts and began to caress them. This would not be the first time Misty had masturbated outside, but it would be the first time she did it when she knew she had an audience. She pinched her nipples and tugged on them, pulling the skin taut.
Spreading her legs apart Misty took a deep breath. She inched her hands down her body. With her feet flat on the ground she raised her hips off the blanket. She wanted to be sure he could see her nearly hairless vagina. Previously when she had pleasured herself outside she had constructed elaborate fantasizes to arouse herself. This time her imagination rested, just knowing that he was watching had her quite excited. She thought only of how her body felt beneath her fingertips, as if she could somehow telegraph the sensation of her sun-warmed skin to him. The rough texture of her sparse pubic hair was quite a contrast from her skin. She paused, rubbing her mound. For reasons she could not explain she trusted the stranger in the tree. He had not intended to intrude into her day, and she somehow knew he would not leave his vantage point to interfere with what she was doing. A soft moan escaped her lips as she felt her labia. The tender flesh was wet and hot. Misty spread her nether lips apart, wondering if he still had his binoculars. She raised her head again to catch a quick glimpse of her audience. He had put the binoculars away. The man was just sitting in the tree stand watching her. He was not making any attempt to hide what he was doing. He was looking directly at her, not moving a muscle. She imagined him with the steely gaze of a predator. Misty lowered her head and sank two fingers into her body. She exaggerated her movements; she wanted to be sure he knew what she was doing. Misty swore she could feel his gaze moving up and down her naked body, starting with her feet and ending with her breasts. She kept her head pressed against the ground, not wanting him to see her face.
It was quite a rationalization, but Vance convinced himself that watching this woman was not perverted as long as he did not use the binoculars. He had not come here looking for naked women; she was just part of the landscape. She was clearly aware of his presence, but made no attempt to conceal herself with the exception of her face. He wondered if she was trying to remain anonymous or if she was just ugly. He chose to believe she was just being coy. If her face was anything like what he could see then she would be pretty. Her legs were tan and trim, her belly was fairly flat and her breasts were full and round, probably between a B and C cup. Her tits sagged just enough to indicate they were real. They were not perky, but kept their shape fairly well, so he guessed she was middle-aged, maybe late thirties to early forties. Vance kept his hands off his erection, another part of his rationalization. There would be plenty of time to replay this scene and stroke himself once he got home. Right now he was just observing the local wildlife.
The image of the strangers body was absent from her mind. Misty was not thinking of anything but what she felt. The warm sun on her body, the gentle breeze blowing through her hair and the soft ground underneath her were all comforting. The feeling of her swollen nipple between her fingers, the wetness between her legs and the heat of the stranger's gaze were all arousing. She alternated between plunging her fingers into her vagina and rubbing them on her clitoris. She could feel her climax building. Misty raised her hips off the blanket, thrusting them towards the man in the tree until she achieved orgasm.
When the last vestige of her climax faded away Misty rolled onto her stomach and then stood up with her back to him. She put on her shoes, gathered her clothes and the blanket and began walking. If he started to follow her Misty was certain that a screaming naked woman would draw plenty of attention. There was a campground less than a half mile way. There were no man made trails to it, but she knew exactly which game trail would get her there the fastest. Once she was safely in the woods and certain she was not being followed she put her clothes on and walked back to her car.
Two days later Vance found himself back at the park. It was earth day and his company have given everyone the day off to do volunteer work. Thoughts of the naked woman in the field drifted though his mind as he found place to park. He pulled in between and old VW camper and a Subaru adorned with peace symbols. "I'm still not thrilled to be here," Vance said as he closed the door and got out of the car. "Hey, beats being back at the work," Keith said as he shut the passengers door. "I don't know; if I was at work I'd be done by five. They have already paged me twice with questions about the inlet temperatures, I might as well be at work," Vance complained. "Okay, but this is for a good cause, and the cell coverage out here sucks, so they won't be able to reach you," Keith offered. "I guess you are right, but I'd prefer it without all the hippie tree huggers." "It would not be Earth Day without them, and the pagans. You forgot the pagans, they might just put a hex on your grumpy ass," Keith said.
Misty shut the door to her van, a 1968 VW camper. She knew driving it almost made her a stereotype of the environmentalist movement, but she really liked it. It sometimes brought unwanted attention, but she could not bear to give it up. She smiled when she saw the crowd forming for the workday in the park, then she saw him. The stranger from the tree. Misty blushed, wondering if he would recognize her now that she was dressed. She stared at him, willing him to look in her direction. When he did she did not back down, but was relieved when his gaze moved on without any sign of recognition. Misty began to walk in his direction. She was going to have a little more fun.
"How about that one, she doesn't look like the earth mother type," Keith said, pointing to a dark haired woman.
"Yea, she might even shave," Vance said, half in jest.
"Probably, and she's not quite old enough to be a real flower child," Keith added.
Vance looked at the woman again. She was average height with a trim build and decent tits. She was wearing what had to be some fair trade outfit from Central America, but she wore it well. He recognized her boots as Danner's; in fact they were the woman's version of the boots he was wearing. She looked familiar, but he couldn't recall where he had seen her before.
He was younger than she expected him to be, Misty thought as she made her way through the crowd. Hunting was supposed to be for older men, but her mystery man was at least ten years her junior, probably in his mid to late twenties. He was better looking than she expected as well. As she slowly circled him she noted he was probably above average height, at least six feet tall. He was fit, but not bulky. Misty was a bit annoyed with his wardrobe, long cargo shorts covered too much of his muscular legs, and a loose fitting T shirt masked his upper physique. He had sharp features, piercing blue eyes and close cropped hair. He and one other man were standing together talking, but not interacting with the rest of the crowd. When he looked in her direction she looked down, still not sure he had not recognized her.
"Nice boots," Vance said.
Misty snapped her head up and stared at him. The stranger was right in front of her. She met his gaze, seeking any sign that he recognized her, but found none. She smiled at him, "Thanks."
"His name is Vance," said Keith as he joined his friend, "sometimes he forgets that part. I'm Keith." Keith put arm around Vance's shoulder.
"You two make a cute couple," Misty teased.
Vance shrugged off Keith's arm, "We are not a couple." He glared at his friend, "Quit acting like a fucking butt pirate."
Keith smiled, clearly delighting in taunting his friend, "He's right, we are just friends."
"No benefits," Vance interjected, "not that there is anything wrong with that."
"Good to know," Misty mused, "do you come out to a lot of these events?"
"Just some small projects, nothing this big before," Vance said.
"Well I think I know which project you should take on. If you can run a chainsaw there are some invasive trees that need to be cut down. It is a bit of a hike to get to them though," Misty offered.
"You had me at chainsaw," Vance replied with a smile.
Keith began to sing as they walked towards the equipment area, "I'm a lumberjack and that's okay..."
As they walked along the trail, she could feel them both staring at her ass. She could not complain, since she had watched intently as they hefted the chainsaws out of the equipment trainer with their well-muscled arms. If she was going to treat them like sexual objects she could hardly protest if they did the same to her. Misty was glad they were lugging the chainsaws. She was not above work, but the saws were very heavy and the trail was steep. One of the reasons the project had been neglected was the difficulty in getting the equipment needed to the location. The area was accessible only by foot and helicopter. No wheeled vehicles could make it in, and pack animals were not allowed.
"Do you come to this park often?" Vance asked.
"Every chance I get, this park is my favorite. How about you?" Misty replied.
"I have been here a few times; I just got into the feral hog control program." Vance replied.
"You mean killing program," Misty replied, not trying to hide her disdain for what he was talking about.
"So you are one of them," Vance said, the whispered under his breath, " hippie."
"I just don't see why you need to kill something so you can stick it on your wall. I don't think nature needs that kind of help" Misty said.
"Actually it does. The hogs are not native to the area. They don't have many predators to control them, so I'm taking on that role. I guess we could import a pack of wolves to get rid of them, but a wolf is not quite as discriminating as a bow hunter," Vance said, trying not to sound like he was on a soap box.
"I guess we will have to agree to disagree," Misty shot back.
"Can we talk about something else?" Keith asked, not wanting to sit through another of Vance's lectures.
"Sure," Misty replied, "what do you do for a living?"
"I work in the power industry," Vance answered.
"What, like putting up power lines?" Misty asked.
"No," Keith interrupted, "he runs the control room at the nuke plant."
Vance shot Keith a glance, mouthing 'Shut up, asshole,' to his friend. He was sure that was the last think the hippie chick wanted to hear.
"How do you get into something like that?" Misty asked, wondering why she found him attractive when he was clearly so wrong for her.
"I was in the navy; I helped run the power plant on a trident class sub for a few years. When I got out the power company recruited me. A lot of the staff at the plant is from the navy."
She looked at him. Everything about him should have repulsed her, but it did not. He killed animals for sport, he worked with the most toxic substances in the world and she was sure he had oppressed someone when he was in the navy. She recalled that a sub that collided with the Japanese boat a few years ago, it was probably his fault. Even now he looked like a lumberjack; he was probably relishing the thought of making some endangered species homeless by chopping down the tree it lived in. Even with all that baggage she was drawn to him.
"How about you?" she said to his friend, "How did you end up together?" Misty smiled when she saw Vance bristle at the implication they were a couple. She could tell he tried to laugh it off, but deep down it seemed to bother him.
"I'm not a squid," Keith replied, "Being surrounded by seamen is not my idea of a good time."
Vance interrupted, "Keith here is a Marine. We met in Okinawa. My boat came in for a port call and he was on leave from Afghanistan."
"What did you do in the Marines?" Misty asked.
"I was a rifleman. I took the fight to Haji," Keith said. He stared at her, daring her to make a disparaging remark.
"Do you think you made things any better?" she asked. Misty wondered if either of them had PTSD. Suddenly being alone in the woods with them did not seem like such a good idea.
"I hope so. There are some good people over there. Some of them are dumb as rocks, but a lot of them are not. I wish they could come to America and see what happens when you learn to tolerate people from different tribes, races and religions. I mean there is still plenty of animosity in the states, but nothing like what those shitheads have. We ground kids that don't behave, they have honor killings. It's fucked up." Keith said.
"So what do you do now?" Misty asked, deciding a change of topic was in order.
"I work at the same place as Squidward over there, but I'm on the security team. He makes sure the nasty stuff stays inside the plant, I make sure the bad guys stay outside the plant."
"So you work at the same place, do you live together as well?" she chided.
"No," Vance answered emphatically, "We don't."
"Not that there is anything wrong with that..." Keith added, clearing trying to annoy Vance.
Misty breathed a sigh of relief. She was beginning to feel comfortable with them again. Even though she had known them for a very brief time, and despite their many differences she enjoyed their company.
They crested the top of the hill they had been climbing, a valley spread out below them. Misty could see the small stand of exotics they needed to cut down. The ranger had said they could just leave the cut up trees behind. This time of year they would not have any seeds on them, so the risk of them growing back was minimal. The ranger had given her an herbicide to pour on the stumps that would kill the roots of the trees.