tagExhibitionist & VoyeurPainting Naked Aubrey, a CFNM story

Painting Naked Aubrey, a CFNM story

byBuckyDuckman©

Aubrey talks me into painting a series of cabins naked and hard while she stays completely clothed. Later, she invites her friends to watch, too.



Hiring help from the local college felt like a bad idea to me, but those six cabins weren't going to paint themselves and I needed the help. Only one person answered my online ad. When she showed up, I was sure I was screwed. Aubrey Nichols showed up wearing brand new painter pants that looked two sizes too big for her. They clung low on her hips held in place by magic. She wore a tight t-shirt, a big smile of perfectly straight teeth, and looked as if she wouldn't know which end of a paint brush to hold. "Ever paint before?" I asked.

"I'm a art student, what the fuck do you think?" she asked. With a rubber band from around her wrist, she pulled her long, dark hair behind her head and tied it up.

"We're not painting canvas," I snarled back. No way was this skinny chick wearing thick rimmed geek glasses going to get the best of me.

"My parents own eight rental properties. I've been doing this kind of painting since I could walk." She pulled the strip off the first five gallon tub of paint, recognized the lid opener when she saw it, and had a smaller pail full of paint without spilling a drop. "You want to roll or cut in?"

"Fair enough. If you can cut in without taping the baseboards, I'll roll."

"Artist, remember? I'm good with a brush."

Aubrey wasn't lying. She loaded her brush, didn't bother to use a guide, and made a perfect four foot swipe just above the baseboard. Tossing a roller screen inside the big bucket of paint, I went to work behind her. Two hours later, we were ready to move to the first bedroom. As we shifted our supplies, I did a bit of sightseeing. Aubrey was cute. I liked her narrow waist and the way her flat stomach showed above the waistband of her painter pants and beneath the bottom of her tight t-shirt. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out how her painter pants stayed in place.

"You in college, too?" she asked as she went back to work cutting in the bedroom walls.

"B.S. in Biology," I said, knowing I wasn't doing a damn thing related to my degree. Aubrey must have caught the look on my face, because she laughed. It wasn't a mean laugh, just an acknowledgement that sometimes life takes turns we don't expect. With the ice broken, we talked, laughed, and knocked out our work. By the end of the day, we were finished with the first cabin and had a good rapport between us.

She was waiting for me in front of the second cabin when I showed up for work on Tuesday. I brought coffee and we went back to work. "So, if you were a Biology major, I guess that means you know a lot about the birds and bees, right?" she asked, on her knees cutting in above the baseboard.

"I guess. Did you have questions?"

"I have lots of questions, but you'd freak."

"Try me," I said, pulling my eyes off her tight ass to pay more attention to the wall in front of me.

"Okay, do you think it's true that guys think about sex every 7.3 seconds? That's what they said on the radio this morning."

"Probably," I laughed. It was a hell of a first question.

"Then why didn't it show during my life studies class?" she asked. I didn't understand what she meant, but she explained how the life studies meant sketching the human form and a naked model. "We had this guy as our model this semester and he never got hard."

"Just because we're thinking about sex doesn't mean we're hard."

"But I thought guys got hard all the time."

"And sometimes, it just sort of happens. Doesn't mean we're horny."

"Weird. Is it awkward?"

"How so?"

"I mean, when you get hard, you're hard, right?" she asked. I agreed. "It's not as if it bends or anything, right?" Again, I agreed. "So what do you do with it?"

"You ride it out. It's just sort of there. It's not a big deal."'

"Maybe not for you," she said, giggling."Ever go commando?"

"Sometimes," I shrugged.

"Ever wear shorts and go commando at the same time?"

"Have you?"

"Not in shorts. But I've done it while wearing a skirt or a dress. Does that count?"

"Yeah, it does," I said, feeling the beginnings of a hard-on as I thought about it. I tried to change the topic."Maybe he was gay."

"Who?"

"Your model. Maybe that's why he didn't get hard around you."

"You think I'm worth getting hard around?" she asked, looking up at me. Her eyes hesitated just below my beltline before moving to my face. She flashed me a playful grin.

"So you want a guy to be naked and hard around you?" I asked, putting it back on her.

"Yeah, why not? I mean, as long as I had my clothes on, nothing would happen. I think it would be fun to see, that's all."

"So me being naked and hard wouldn't do anything for you. Thanks," I said, purposely twisting her words.

"Fuck, that's not what I meant!" she said before laughing at how I twisted it around. "I want to see every man I know naked and hard. Well, the hot ones, anyway."

"Now I'm hot?"

"You're not bad," she said, focusing on her painting.

"And then women wonder why guys don't understand them."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"First, you tell me nothing would happen if I got hard around you. Then you tell me I'm hot. Then you tell me I'm not bad looking. What the fuck, over?"

She waited for me to load my roller before pulling the screen from the big bucket of paint and refilling her smaller bucket. Using an empty bucket as a seat, she watched me finish the wall. "I said, if I'm still wearing my clothes, nothing would happen if you were naked and hard. Doesn't mean it won't get to me."

"I can think of lots things that might. I could splatter paint on my dick."

Aubrey giggled. "It's latex, dude. Comes right off."

"Would you wash it off for me?"

"I'd rather watch you wash it off."

"Okay, stop it," I said, feeling the bulge growing inside my pants.

"Problem?"

"Not yet," I admitted, but I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep my cool. I had half a hard-on. Not enough to embarrass myself, but enough for her to notice and everything about our conversation told me she would. Screw it. I turned around, picked up my coffee cup, and took a seat across from her. If she was going to check, I would see her look. She tilted her head and considered me with a whimsical half grin on her face before shaking away the expression and polishing off her cup of lukewarm coffee. "What?" I asked. I might not be a master at reading body language, but I could tell she had just finished an internal conversation I didn't get to hear.

"Nothing. There's no way you'd do it, so it doesn't matter."

"Do what?"

"Work the rest of the day naked."

I laughed, nearly spewing coffee out of my nose. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"You won't do it, so it doesn't matter."

"No shit. But why would you want me to do it? You that interested in seeing me hard? "

"I said naked, I didn't say you had to be hard."

"If I get naked around you, I'm sure I'll be hard, too."

"But what if we go back to work like nothing's happening, would you stay hard?"

"Maybe. Probably."

"You like your job that much?" Aubrey asked, that half grin back on her face. It was interesting how that same half grin did triple duty as an amused smirk, a sarcastic emphasis, or a wistful musing. She was cute when she did any one of those.

"I'm just saying, if I'm naked around a good looking woman and I'm not hard, there's something wrong with me, you know?"

"So you think I'm good looking?"

"Good enough," I said, catching how she was doing the same thing back to me.

"I don't think you would stay hard."

I laughed at her ignorance. "Let's say that I did, then what? "

"Then we have four more cabins to go. Think you could do it four days in a row?"

"Now I'm working naked for the next four days? When did that happen?"

"Aren't you curious what might happen?"

"Are you getting naked, too?"

She shook her head. "No, just you."

"What's in it for me?"

"Your clothes stay clean?"

I watched her over my coffee cup as I drained it. As far as I could tell, she was serious. She really wanted me to do it. "Let's pretend I decide to do it. And let's suppose I get hard and stay that way, too." She nodded. "By the end of the day, I'm going to be in need, if you catch my drift."

"I think, if you're working naked, you should be allowed to take care of yourself anytime you want to."

"You going to help me with that?"

"I'll watch you do it, if that makes a difference. I've never seen a guy just do it without something else happening, too."

"Too one-sided," I said. I got as far as picking up the big paint bucket to carry it into the bedroom when she sealed the deal.

"If you work naked these next four days, you can have me."

"Have you how?" I asked, not turning around.

"Any way you want me."

I put the big bucket down and faced her. "For how long?"

"One night. You and me."

"I might be into some sick and twisted things," I threatened.

"I'm an art student, I think I can handle anything you can dish out."

I stared at Aubrey Nichols for a long time. She was serious, but was I? Could I really do it? "Any rules?"

She shrugged. "No. You work naked the rest of today and until we finish the last cabin."

"Naked and hard," I corrected. She nodded.

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, if you can stay hard. You can get off anytime you want. That would be cool to see, too. I mean, I don't care. I just want to see a guy naked and hard and see what happens."

"And the day we finish?"

"You have me that night, from the moment we pack up until sunrise."

I teetered on the edge of accepting her challenge. "What are you going to do?"

"Paint, look, and probably giggle at lot." Before I could turn her down again, she added a little more weight to her side of the equation. "Just try it for today, as a goof. If it gets too weird, you can get dressed. Unless, of course, you're bashful."

I was curious what might happen. Maybe she would get so excited she would want me before our last day, you know? I don't know. Maybe I liked the idea of freaking her out. And when she reminded me I could get dressed anytime I wanted, I realized I didn't have a reason to say "no."

After kicking off my work boots, I stripped off my painter pants, my t-shirt, and saved my boxers for last. Sitting naked on an overturned bucket, I put my boots back on while Aubrey sat watching with one of her half grins in place. I wasn't hard, but I wasn't soft, either. It was a good compromise.

"For the record, you have nothing to be bashful about. You're hot." She stared between my legs without shame.

"Keep staring and I'm going to end up hard, too."

"I haven't stopped yet, have I?" she asked, her eyes plastered on my half hard cock and balls.

Feeling my cock stir, I realized I needed to do something more than sit there. "This feels damn weird," I said, returning to the bucket of paint we needed in the next room.

"I like it," she said, smiling as she picked up her smaller brush and bucket.

Giving Aubrey a chance to start her cutting in, I stood farther away and allowed her to get farther ahead of me before I stepped up with my roller. It didn't seem polite to wave my exposed junk her face. "You still on break or do you like seeing me on my knees?" she asked, calling me on my idleness.

"Just giving you a chance to work ahead of me." As I started working the roller again, I hoped my half staffed hard-on might ease. I know she said she wanted to see me hard, but I wanted to take it one step at a time. Without the restrictions of my clothes, my cock and balls swung in the air. Enjoying the extra freedom, my cock grew harder instead of softer. I ignored the change. It wasn't sticking out or up, not yet, but as my prick grew longer and fatter I knew that could change at any moment.

"You should model for one of the life studies classes," she said. I guess she was just making conversation.

"I'll pass."

"Why? Can't handle fifteen art students staring at you?"

"You ever do it?"

"Me? No. I don't want someone to see me naked unless we're going to have sex."

"Guess you never played sports then."

"What's that mean?" she asked, glancing at me. Her eyes lingered on my junk, but eventually made it to my face, too.

"Public showers."

"Ever seen what happens in the women's locker room?"

"Now you're just trying to get to me."

"Okay. And for the record, I've only had sex in the women's locker room once."

"Bullshit," I said, fighting off my prick's interest in growing harder.

"I'm serious. She came on to me. It was my freshman year at State. I never knew her name, either."

"This is so much bullshit." I was determined to keep my cool.

"I had just finished a work-out when she came into the showers behind me. We were just talking when she offered to wash my back. I don't know why I let her. I guess because I was still young and stupid. It never occurred to me she might be coming on to me. And I guess I didn't really let her wash my back, she just started doing it. I sort of froze, wondering what was up. It wasn't until her hand moved to my front that I figured it out.

"Anyway, the next thing I know, she's pulling me against her. Fuck, I can still remember how it felt to have her naked body pressed against my back. She grabbed at my tits and I guess when I didn't stop her, she just kept going. Next thing I know, she's fingering me, got me off, and left."

"You are shitting me. Not a bit of that happened," I said.

"Maybe it did," she said, witnessing the change in my cock. She had missed seeing it change. I hadn't. Not only had I felt it, but I had watched it move from a chubby to a hard-on. I couldn't hide it. I didn't try. What was I supposed to do? I kept painting while my hard cock begged for attention I wasn't offering. I felt conspicuous as hell. "For whatever its worth, fuck that's hot."

Her softer words made prick throb a few times. "That's not helping."

"Can you work like that?"

"I'm getting more done than you," I pointed out. My brush hadn't stopped moving since I got hard. She looked me in the eyes, smiled, and went back to work. Still cutting in the baseboards, her back was to me. It didn't change anything about my condition. We were quiet as we worked. I didn't notice how fast she was moving until she reached the end of the wall, stopped, and turned around to watch me work. She sat on the floor, hugging her bent knees and wore a delighted smile as she stared at my hard dick. "Really?"

"Hey, I'm waiting on you."

"And you're just going to stare?"

"Why not? It's a nice view."

"It's not helping," I said, my cock throbbing for attention.

"Relax. I'm an artist. You should let me sketch you like that."

I did my best to ignore her and my hard-on and kept working. It wasn't easy, but I kept the roller loaded with paint a moving against the wall. Side step by side step, I moved closer to the corner where she sat. "You going to move?" I asked.

"Do I have to?"

"No, but it's not my fault if this thing hits you in the face," I said, giving my prick a quick glance. She waited until the last moment to move. Picking up her brush, she went back to work on the next wall. This time, she faced me as she worked, backing up as she went along. Again, we stayed quiet, except for the occasional squeak from the roller. She worked quickly, reached the end of the wall, and stopped again. It's a common mistake rookies make when painting, they'll cut in a room and then roll, producing an odd outline around the room. The key is to work with a wet edge. I worked fast enough with a roller that Aubrey could keep going, but she was fast, too. Regardless of how we did it, she would have to wait for me to catch up. "Tomorrow I'm bringing a second roller."

"If you do, I'll bring a friend to watch, too."

"Maybe we should trade jobs."

"Fine with me. I don't mind staring at your ass."

I kept working, knowing if I worked the roller any faster, it would start to splatter.

"Think about what you might to do me in four days."

"I'm hard enough."

"Then do something about it."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"I think you'd like it more."

"How so?"

"You're the one having the orgasm."

"You could have one with me."

"I could. Maybe I will. Want to take a break and find out?"

"I'm fine," I said, stepping back to inspect our work. It looked good. I waited for her to cut in the next wall. I didn't have to prompt her. She started working on it as soon as I left the corner. "I'll be right back. I gotta drain off some of that coffee."

"How do you do that when it's pointing in the wrong direction?"

"Same problem every guy has every morning. You lean over and push it down as far as you can."

"Can I watch?"

"Watch me pee?"

"Think of it as a biology lesson."

"No way," I said.

"If you're not hard when you come back, I'll know you did more than pee!" she called out to my back.

I took care of business, washed my hands, and stared at myself in the mirror. My face and torso were freckled in paint. Looking down, I saw the paint freckles went from my head to the toes of my work boots. I had been working the roller too hard; loading it with too much paint and spinning it too fast. Dots of latex clung to my pubic hair. I rolled my eyes at my reflection and went back into the other room. I guess Aubrey didn't trust how long I might be. She had stopped her work and was working the roller. "Are we trading jobs?"

"Is it okay? My knees were getting tired." I noticed that she checked to see if I was still hard. I was.

"Don't want that, especially between now our night together. You might be spending a lot of time on your knees."

"Oh yeah? Guess that means you like it doggie style?"

"Think 'head nurse,'" I suggested.

"Tease."

"Oh, you like doing that?"

"I like lots of things. What sort of things do you have in mind?"

I thought about trying to tease her as she had done with me, but I didn't do it. I was naked and hard, if that wasn't enough of a thrill for her, what could I say? Besides, a little mystery can go a long way. "You did say I could be as sick and twisted as I wanted, right?"

Damn it, my threat didn't faze her. "I did."

"Ever do anal?" I suggested, not even thinking about my back being turned to her.

"Giving or receiving?" she asked, loading the roller.

"You're so full of shit," I said, laughing at her suggestion.

"Am I?"

Rather than answer, I stayed focused on my work. I knew how to paint a line without using a guide, but I never took the risk. Holding the guide meant I could work faster. I stayed well ahead of her and by the time we finished the room, it was clear we needed to trade jobs again.

"I forgot how much of a work-out that gives your arms," she said as we broke for lunch.

The cabins were three miles into the woods and fair enough way from town that it made more sense to bring our lunches. With the furniture in storage during painting, we used empty paint tubs as stools. A vegetarian, Aubrey ate a bean sprout sandwich on whole wheat bread while drinking herbal tea she brewed herself. I chowed down on both my baloney sandwiches without guilt, even when she pointed out, "You know there's a legal limit to how much rat hair is allowed in baloney and it's not zero."

"Careful or we'll start our date at a steakhouse I know." The horrible face she made and the way she shivered made me laugh.

"Now it's a date?"

I shrugged. "What do you want to call it?"

"I don't know. I guess that works. I was serious about wanting to sketch you." Her eyes told me which part she wanted to sketch.

"We'll see."

"Does it still feel weird to be naked?"

"At least I'm not hard anymore." I wasn't sure when it happened, but sometime during our lunch break, my hard-on had eased.

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