tagExhibitionist & VoyeurA New Way of Seeing Things Pt. 03 Ch. 10

A New Way of Seeing Things Pt. 03 Ch. 10


Standard disclaimers.

This is a story about sexual exploration and, open relationships. Open relationships can and do happily exist; but they are not for everyone. If you do not believe it is at all possible for open relationships to exist without damage to any and all involved parties, please do yourself a favor and don't waste your time reading this.


Also, this story takes place in a world where STDs don't exist and only babies planned for and wanted do—in other words, a fantasy world. Any resemblance to real-life people is purely coincidental.


Pay attention to your driving, the Lady reminded her yet again, and again she was successful for only a short time before her thoughts returned to where she had just come from, and what had been discussed...

Proposition. Her hostess had said the word in a way that made it sound harmless, even a little exciting, but Gwen's ingrained sense of caution rose to squash those notions. "A proposition?" She had asked the other rider.

Mrs. Danning smiled. "Yes, a proposition. You may or may not be aware, but in addition to horses I have a passion for good photography. I'm especially pleased when those interests are come together.

I'm having my private quarters at the farm in Kentucky renovated and I need something nice for the walls of my bedroom. I've commissioned Danilo Castigalli to produce some pieces for me. So you know him?"

Gwen thought for a moment. "The name sounds familiar..."

"He's a frequent contributor to many of the equestrian magazines and is considered a rising star in the art world. I've had a particular project in mind for a while—I've known the horse I wanted for this for some time, but could never find the right rider. Until now."

Gwen's eyes widened in surprise as her confusion became understanding, then denial. "You don't mean me?"

Sylvia laughed. "Yes, you. Your form is impeccable, yet not forced—it all comes very naturally to you and that's the look I want. You have a certain aura about you Gwen—how do I put it-confident experience in a wrapper of mature beauty. Of course, Else's glowing evaluation of you-" She's using the term glowing very liberally, Gwen thought, Else Ritter never "glowed"—"helped plant the seed. I was intrigued by the respect and wanted to see for myself. This afternoon was sort of an audition, one that you passed quite nicely. You're exactly what I want for this."

"But I'm not a model—"

"You were a few weeks ago," Mrs. Danning laughed. "As I said, there's a confident beauty to you, whether you're in breeches or bare-ass naked." She paused for a moment before continuing. "The air of, how should I put it, arrogance without conceit you maintained while flashing your naughty bits to complete strangers was impressive. It was almost as if you were daring people to look. That's the attitude I want for this project."

"I don't understand?"

"Gwen, I've got in mind something that requires a true equestrienne, a rider so good and so composed that she continues to shine even without, umm, distractions like a starched shirt or pressed morning coat."

Well now she's just making no sense whatsoever, the Lady opined. "I'm sorry, I still don't understand?"

Mrs. Danning smiled. "To put it bluntly, this photo shoot will require some nudity-tastefully done, of course, artistic, not pornography, it will be on the walls of one of my homes after all—but the rider I've been looking for would project the same air of self-confidence and control whether she's dressed or not. I've seen you both ways, and I think you'll do just fine."

Gwen blushed and shook her head. "I'm flattered, I think, thank you, but I couldn't... I'm a married woman with two daughters. What would the people my husband and I do business with think if they saw me like that? What would my family think?"

Mrs. Danning smiled. "These won't be going in Horse and Rider, Gwen. As I said, my bedroom only, out of the public eye."

"But you could always change your mind about that..."

"Only with your permission. My personal collection only unless you say otherwise. The modeling contract you'll be signing is very clear on that."

Gwen hesitated, somewhat irritated the woman seemed to be assuming her consent was a given. "Again, I'm flattered, but really, I couldn't—"

"I would compensate you very well...certainly much more than you made for that few hours in my home."

"It's not about the money," Gwen protested softly.

"So why did you model for us a few weeks ago? My guests and I saw everything you had to offer then...weren't you afraid someone might find out?"

The question made Gwen pause momentarily, her mouth agape while she grasped for a suitable answer. "A little," she admitted, unwilling to reveal the danger had also been a thrill. "I did it because I was asked to," she finally answered. "It was, I don't know, it felt like a challenge, or a dare? Whatever the reason, it was a foolish thing to do and I don't exactly know why I said yes. I'm not sure what else to say."

"Say yes again," Mrs. Danning quickly replied. "I think you enjoy challenges, Gwen. Things that break up the routine, that push on your comfort zone. Like picking a strange, spirited horse to ride...or strutting around naked in front of a bunch of rich bitches. Just think of this as another challenge. I dare you. Tell you what," she continued, spurring her horse into a walk. "Think it over. I'll give you Rae's number, if you have any questions, call. Otherwise I'll assume it's a yes and have her call you sometime next week to make further arrangements."

"Mrs. Danning, I—"

The older woman glanced back over her shoulder at the rider hurrying to catch up. "Sylvia. While I occasionally will take no for an answer, once I set my mind on something I try very hard not to. Tell me what you'll require and we'll see if we can't come to an agreement."

Despite her protestations, Gwen had promised to at least think about it, and pondered the woman's words all the way home. The Lady was adamant the offer be rejected—politely, of course, one could not risk offending a woman such as Sylvia Danning—and it certainly seemed the smart, safe thing to do, but the Slut continued to press for an exploration of the possibilities. She pulled over at one point to call Natalie and seek her advice, hopeful and fairly certain what it would be, the Lady thankful she got voicemail instead.

Tim had dinner waiting when she arrived home. "How'd it go?" he asked, stirring a pot he had set to warm some time ago.

"Good, okay," she said distractedly, grateful to be relieved of the cooking duties.

"Yeah?" he asked, putting plates on the table. "No surprises?"


"Uh-oh. Nothing bad, I hope." They sat, Tim now showing some concern.

"No, nothing bad really, just...did you know Sylvia Danning likes photography?"

"You mean taking pictures?"

"No, collecting it. She commissions photographers to add to her collection and wants to have some of one of her horses taken."

Tim waited patiently for more details, a confused smile on his face. "And, that concerns you how?"

"She wants a rider as well for some she's having taken. Me."

His smile widened. "Wow! That's an honor, right?"

Gwen shook her head irritably. "It's not like that. She wants someone who will, well..." her voiced trail off and she hesitated. "I was at her house that night...she wants someone who will pose without their clothes on. Mrs. Danning said it would be artistic, not pornography," she hurriedly added, "and that they'd be part of her private collection, for her farm in Kentucky, but still..."

The smile on her husband's face did not slacken. "Didn't think I ever saw anything like that in one of your magazines. Gonna do it?"

"No!" The Lady answered for her. "What if somebody saw them?"

"Sounds like they're going on the wall of her house? Do you know many people who spend time at one of the Danning estates?"

"No, at least not that I know of..."

"Then the chances of somebody you know seeing them are pretty low. And even if they did, what are they gonna say—hey, one of the richest women in the country has some pictures of you? So it sounds like you told her no?"

Gwen pushed a green bean around her plate, avoiding eye contact. "I told her I'd think about it.

"If you didn't say no right off, you must at least have some interest. You should do it."

"You can't be serious!" Please be serious, The Slut hoped. "That's easy for you to say. What if someone wanted to take pictures of you naked?"

"I'd check to make sure they weren't blind and hadn't been drinking, then I'd be flattered as hell," he said with a laugh. "Besides, we've both let other people see us without our clothes on, and Cricket's seen a lot more than that..." Tim knew he would not have pressed a matter like this with the old Gwen, not that it ever would have come up—pushing her past her restrictive bounds had always been a recipe for disaster and he had learned to avoid it early on in their relationship. But he sensed something different this time, like she wanted the push. "You posed for me in front of a stranger...think you'd get a set to keep? I'd love to see what naked horseback riding looks like."

"It will probably look ridiculous, and I'm sure it will feel uncomfortable," she mused sourly. "Sweaty skin on leather? I'll probably end up sticking to the saddle and getting rashes. Maybe they'll just have me on a blanket instead, or bareback...been a while since I rode that way."

"My favorite way to ride," Tim replied, a sly smile spreading across his face as he studied his own meal.

"You're terrible," she scolded, but enthusiastically encouraged him to mount her and show off his skills at bedtime that evening.

Cricket arrived mid-afternoon the next day. She had come with some trepidation and had even briefly considered avoiding an overnight stay as a means of preventing a recurrence of the events of her previous visit. Normal people did not watch other people have sex, and normal people did not want to be seen! But Tim and Gwen seemed so normal—and nice—in every other way, and the little kink they shared was not enough of a reason to end a friendship she so needed and valued. If her watching gave them a thrill, she reasoned, then it was the least she could do given all they had done for her. As for herself, she knew she wanted to believe she was otherwise normal to the point of bland, nearly invisible to the rest of the world, so perhaps this one descent into perversion could be forgiven and occasionally overlooked. She hoped her deviant private side could successfully coexist with her stable, no-nonsense public persona, although she worried what would happen if the private side ever took control.

The conflict was surprisingly easy to put aside during her nightly masturbation sessions, however. The memories of what she had seen and done transformed into elaborate fantasies, ones where she brimmed with sexual confidence bordering on arrogance, ones where she boldly pushed the door open and joined the naked bodies on the bed to pleasure and be pleasured in a variety of ways, some most likely questionable or even physically impossible in real-life.

The lateness of her arrival and the unseasonably cold, misty weather had made even a short ride an unappealing prospect, and the women spent a couple of hours together polishing leather and steel instead. Gwen debated telling her young friend about her ride the day before but decided she was not yet ready to share what she had been offered, or admit that her resolve to decline was steadily weakening.

Their casual conversation fell silent at the sound of Tim's boots shuffling into the barn. "You guys hungry?" he asked, poking his head around the side of the open stall doorway.

The women looked at each other. "I could eat," Gwen finally volunteered. "Let me go see what we have in the fridge."

"How about a pizza at Granato's?" Tim suggested.

"Do you want to go get it while we set the table?"

"Nah, let's go there and eat. Give the regulars something to talk about, how I came in with a beautiful woman on each arm."

Gwen smiled. "Do we have time to clean up?"

"I'm in no hurry."

Tim was the first to be ready, the fact that Gwen had left their bedroom door wide open while they changed not lost on him. He also noted Cricket's mostly open door as he made his way back up the hall, only a small portion of her room still obscured from view. Unfortunately, it was the part she had chosen to dress in, and he shook his head and smiled. Maybe next time.

They were in no hurry at the restaurant either, the women each sipping their way through two glasses of wine while Tim stopped after two beers. Stomachs full and the edges softened by the alcohol, they made their way out of the warm restaurant, into the chill damp evening and back to the house.

"Might be a good night for a hot tub before bed," Gwen suggested as they entered the kitchen, the others agreeing with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. She pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses and set them on the table before disappearing down the hallway. She returned a short time later, nude and carrying three towels, putting two on the table and slinging one over her shoulder.

"Be right back," Cricket chirped softly and headed to her room. Tim glanced at Gwen, then followed the young woman at a respectful distance. He cursed himself after shedding his clothes, realizing he had forgotten to take a towel from the table to wrap about his midsection. He thought about retrieving another one from the bathroom, but decided their houseguest was soon going to see him in all his glory anyways, Still, he hurried down the hall in the hopes he might get to the kitchen and his covering before she did.

The young woman was already in the hallway when he exited the bedroom, likely having the same thought of arriving first as she had forgotten to grab something to wrap herself in as well. His cock instinctually twitched at the subconscious initiation being sent by her swaying hips and the tight little bottom. Down boy, he pleaded with his alert member. Save it for the other naked woman.

Cricket had grabbed a towel but not yet wrapped it around her body when he turned the corner. The young woman's eyes glanced at his to acknowledge his arrival then looked down to break the stare, reflexively stopping at his midsection. They lingered for only a second before being averted altogether to help wrap the fabric she held around her body. Tim hesitated before reaching for his, her bare thigh partially blocking his path to it. He stepped forward, clearing his throat to announce his honest intention, and Cricket again looked down as he stepped towards her, his swinging penis just inches from brushing against her flank as he reached. She hurriedly stepped aside and finished the job of covering herself.

Tim carried their drinks and trailed the women up to the pool. Gwen still carried her towel rather than wearing it and the damp night air made her shiver as she hurried to the tub's edge and the steam rising from it. Cricket was next, quickly dropping her towel and sliding into the water, but not before Tim caught a glimpse of her pert breasts and triangle of thatch between her legs. He poured and set down their wine beside each of them, the light from the bottom of the tub and the agitated water combining to tease him as to what lay beneath its surface. Tim grabbed his beer and walked around the circular edge to an open seat.

He dropped his towel and Cricket looked up at him as he stood across from her. That's what a man should look like, she thought, rougher, more angular and muscular than her own, and much more hairy ... and that thing between his legs...a pink mushroom-capped length hanging loosely over a sack being weighed down by the balls inside, nestled in a thick brown patch of wiry curls. It certainly didn't look small, despite the evening's chill and what Gwen had said about the cold's effects. She stared at the flaccid length, briefly imagining it in a different, more menacing state. The male form in general, and Tim in particular, was very easy to look at, she acknowledged. Her private time with Gwen was certainly both erotic and enjoyable, but to have something like that pressing down on her...your friend's husband, she scolded herself, and looked away. Too much wine. Be careful.

Tim noticed where the young woman's attention was focused as he looked down to find the first step and again felt first pulse of his shaft awakening. He dropped into the steaming water, silently cursing the sudden heat on his tender sac, then sat to hide it all between his thighs until his excitement passed. There were occasional heavy-lidded glances but not much talk, the warmth, alcohol and drone of the pump filter lulling them into a state of relaxed well-being.

"I'm getting out before I fall asleep and drown," Gwen finally announced, standing and turning to step out. Tim did the same, and Cricket watched his glistening body emerge just a couple of feet away, his penis streaming water like some alien sea creature as it broke the surface. She held her breath, looking on as his muscular legs and ass propelled him up and out on to the damp concrete.

Tim tried to not be so obvious as he snuck his own peek when the young woman rose. Her ex must be an idiot or gay, he thought, not to have been fucking that long and often. Small and delicately featured, probably hiding a willingness to take—and enjoy-a pounding. Just like Gwen. He turned away and dried himself before his cock could betray him.

The women wrapped themselves with their towels for warmth, Tim for modesty, and made their way down to the house. Gwen disappeared into the bedroom, returning a moment later in her robe. "I think I'd like a little more wine and some TV before bed," she announced, pouring a glass and moving to the living room. Cricket and Tim joined her after they had dressed, her husband now in shorts and a t-shirt, her young friend in a thigh-length nightgown. They sat and watched in silence, Gwen and Tim in their easy chairs, the young woman on the couch with her legs folded modestly underneath her.

"Long day," Cricket finally announced as she stood after the news, the stretch that accompanied her yawn pulling her cover up to just below her crotch. "If you'll excuse me, I should probably go to bed."

"Sleep well," Gwen told her, rising to give her a peck on the lips. "You know where everything is-help yourself."

"G'night," Tim said as the young woman made her way by his recliner and towards her room.

"G'night." She stopped next to his chair, hesitated, and impulsively bent to kiss the top of his head.

Tim smiled and shrugged at his wife as her friend continued on past him. "You going to bed, too?"

Gwen watched Cricket disappear down the hallway, then turned off the TV and moved to his chair. "In a little bit," she replied, settling herself across his lap, her arms loosely around his neck. "Am I too heavy?"

"Light as a feather." Another day, another surprise, he thought with amusement. He couldn't ever remember her sitting on his lap before. The lips that found his soon had his complete attention.

Tim's hand had no problem undoing her carelessly tied sash, flipping back the robe's edge and caressing bare skin when he met no resistance to his advance. He teased, fingers running up to the side of her breast then down to the turn of her hip and down her inner thigh, drawing close to her sensitive nipples and mons with each pass but never quite getting there. Gwen shifted to prop one foot against the chair's arm and parted her legs after one such approach that was stopped by her pressed-together thighs. Tim was grateful for her movement; while she was light, the pressure of her body on his cock was making its attempt to uncoil difficult.

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