A New Way of Seeing Things Pt. 02 Ch. 01

They had traveled a half-mile before Gwen took note of the delicious feeling emanating from between her legs. The rider realized she had at somewhere further down the trail pushed her hips forward enough for her bare mons to be pressed against the base of the saddlehorn; The pressure and rocking motion combined to send regular pulses through her body. It was not enough to make her climax, but it was certainly enough to start a slow, easy climb to one. Despite the strain on her back and legs, her hips remained thrust forward until the picnic table appeared in the clearing.

Dart was loosely tethered in his customary spot while Gwen wandered the open space on the side of the ridge, enjoying the view, delighting in the breeze on her naked skin. She briefly imagined what someone across the shallow valley might see if they were to focus their binoculars up here—a black-booted, black-gloved but otherwise naked woman looking back at them. The Lady seized upon this to remind her that perhaps she could be seen, and it would be wise to end this game now.

Gwen did back away from the edge of ridge and returned to the saddle bag, but not for clothes. Only the rabbit was retrieved on her way to the picnic table. Even what little cover she wore in gloves and boots was removed; she wanted nothing between her and the sun and the wind. The naked woman lay down on the top of the table, back and bum to the sun's rays beating down, the smooth wood warm against her stomach and nipples. She lay that way for just a few moments, eyes closed, ears taking in the whisper of the breeze in the pines, the occasional rattle of Dart's halter as he shook away flies, the cicadas sounding to each other all about her. She rolled over languidly.

A memory from school came to her as she lay there, of an image in a book she was not supposed to have been looking at. It was of an Aztec woman, a human sacrifice, laid out on a ceremonial table as an offering to the Sun god. She had been dressed in little more than a buckskin loincloth and halter top while a befeathered priest hovered above her, dagger poised to deliver her for the gods' favor. And now the naked woman on the picnic table was that offering to the sun.

Gwen chided herself for the seeming irrelevance of her current situation and that distant memory; the heroine of that book was facing certain death, but Gwen would face only shame and embarrassment should she be found like this. She opened her legs in offering to the sun and reached for her own dagger in the hopes of summoning her own "little death".

The vibrator buzzed to life at the push of a button, and the ears of the device surrounded and electrified her clit while the bulbous head teased her opening. The Lady asked her to please hurry up, as there was still much work to do in the office as well as the ever present danger of getting caught, but the Slut counseled enjoying every perverted moment.

It took some time for the world to stop and her senses to leave her, Dart watching with mild interest as his human stiffened and rolled to her side, perilously close to falling off the table altogether. She lay there for a moment, catching her breath and gathering her wits before allowing the Lady to spur her along and back down the trail. Boots and gloves would be sufficient until she was closer to home and would need to dress.

She stayed naked until she had groomed her horse and turned him out into the paddock, briefly considering a swim before the obligation to at least check messages overwhelmed her. Reluctantly she dressed, t-shirt and jeans sufficient until she could return to the house for more proper attire. Several messages awaited her, including one from Tim.

"Hey hon," he began, "Just wanted to let you know Dale Pescini—you remember him from the Chamber of Commerce dinners?- is gonna be stopping by later this afternoon to pick up a trolling motor. Hope you're decent. We'll be back a little later than normal—takin' everybody out for a beer after. See you then. Love you."

Gwen checked the message's time—it had come in about the time she had been packing her clothes into the saddle bag, she guessed. What did later this afternoon mean? And what did he mean by decent? He couldn't have known what she had been doing?

A call back to him for clarification would be in order, Gwen decided, right after she took the remaining item in her bag back to the house and changed back into work clothes.

The sound of a big diesel coming up the driveway stopped her halfway between the office and the barn. The roof of Dale's truck cresting the small rise told her later this afternoon meant now.

Gwen froze, unsure what to do while resisting the urge to look down and check her appearance. While she was somewhat hopeful her lack of panties might go unnoticed, she was certain the white-t-shirt she wore would not be sufficient to fully mask what was underneath. It was too far to run to the barn, office or house and hide; Dale would definitely see her. The Lady alternated between panic and I-told-you-so's; the Slut urged her to stick 'em out and do 'em proud. Reluctantly she crossed her arms over her chest and trudged back to where the truck had stopped in front of the office.

"Afternoon, Gwen," the tall grey-haired man said with a smile as he eased his frame out from behind the driver side door. His well-muscled arms gave hint to the contractor's vocation.

"Hello, Dale." Dale Pescini was one of the better stonemasons in the area. Gwen remembered him as a quiet, unassuming man, not much for conversation. His wife, on the other hand—what was her name?—more than made up for him in that area.

"Hope I'm not interruptin' anything," he said in a baritone drawl. "Tim said I could borrow one of his trollin' motors."

Gwen could see his eyes traveling up and down her, and she decided this is what it felt like to be mentally undressed. She had witnessed Tim's friends and associates do it to many women over the years, and knew it was harmless enough in a good ole' boy sort of way as those women had certainly invited it, but this was the first time she could ever remember receiving the treatment. She hugged herself tighter and wished for her underwear. "No, you're not interrupting. I just came back from a ride." Gwen nodded toward the stable, unwilling to move an arm to point. "He left me a message you were stopping by. Do you know where it is?"

The big man smiled. He had met Gwen many times at jobsites and functions but never really bothered to check her out before, partly out of respect for Tim, partly because her choice of clothes effectively camouflaged what lay beneath. Her bitchy attitude had made it not worth any further attempts to imagine what lay beneath her chastity belt. But today was different, Tim be damned. The riding boots and jeans presented an almost painted-on look compared to what he had always seen her in, and, he was sure them titties were filling out that t-shirt real nice, if she would just lower her damn arms! "Yeah, he tole' me it was in the tractor shed." Dale stood there smiling, apparently in no hurry to leave.

"Well, I won't keep you," Gwen said hurriedly. "I'm going to go up to the house and start dinner. Give my best to—" she hesitated, the image of his voluptuous wife in her mind—"Angie."

"I'll do that," he smiled, still not moving. He watched her hurry across the yard, that tight little ass swaying underneath them tight jeans, until she reached the deck stairs. Only then did he turn away to avoid the minor embarrassment of being caught staring at the ass of his friend's wife and make his way to the shed.