Statuesque

Jacob walks quickly along the sunlit sidewalk with both hands in the pockets of his oversized black hoodie. His shaggy brown hair limits his peripheral vision, and his gaze is low, tracking the other pedestrians around him by their legs and feet. He gives ample space to passerby and shares the sidewalk with a courteous, but silent and avoidant manner. In his right pocket, he grips a slip of paper.

When he arrives at his destination, he pushes through the door with his shoulder and makes his way into the short lineup leading to the front desk. He pulls his phone from his pocket as he waits. Tapping and scrolling, he never lifts his head despite flowing patiently with the queue.

Minutes later, at the front of the line, Jacob is greeted by a middle-aged woman.

"Hi there. How can I help you?"

He smiles politely, briefly makes eye contact, and hands her the package slip from his pocket.

"Oh, I'm sorry. It's not here yet." She points at some text on the paper. "You see, it says here that your package will be available after 1pm today."

"Oh. Okay," says Jacob as he turns to leave.

"Shouldn't be long," she assures him.

Sitting on a shaded park bench nearby, Jacob kills time again on his phone. For months, he's been learning Japanese with the help of a language app. The octopus mascot with the monocle always amuses him. He flicks his head habitually to move hair out of the way when a glint of light catches his eye.

It came from a bronze statue in the centre of the parkette. As he only ever comes to this part of town to pick up the odd package at the post office, Jacob had never noticed it before.

The subject is a young woman. She stands barefoot in a silky dress holding a wide, shallow bowl in front of her. It functions as a bird bath, and a small, light brown sparrow flits about in the water. The woman's hair is tied in a long braid that hangs over her shoulder, and she looks down lovingly at the miniature scene before her.

Jacob is similarly transfixed. Her bronze form glows warmly under the midday sun, and she inhabits the green space, serene and peaceful, like a woodland fairy. He squints to admire the smoothness of her skin, the flowing weightlessness of her dress, and the quiet majesty of her form.

When a mother crosses between them, dragging a screaming child, the spell is broken. Jacob returns to his phone and checks the time.

Back at the post office, Jacob again reaches the front desk and holds out the package slip a second time.

"Welcome back," says the service clerk, scanning the barcode on the paper. "Can I see your ID?"

He complies.

"Okay, I'll be right back."

When she emerges from the back room holding an 18-inch box, Jacob's face lights up.

"Here you go, sir," says the woman. "Have a nice day."

"Thanks. You too," says Jacob before turning to leave, still staring down at the package.

Though excited to get home, with the box under his arm, Jacob slows his pace as he passes the parkette to get another look at the bronze statue. There she stands, as before, bathed in sunlight. His eyes drift down to get a look at the shape of her hips peeking from behind the sides of the bowl she holds. Just as his eyes begin to trace those hard curves, he bumps into a man that had stopped to drop his coffee cup into a trash bin.

"Oh! God, sorry. Sorry, I'm sorry," Jacob blurts out. He lowers his head and hurries away.

Walking through his front door, Jacob listens for signs of his roommate. He looks down at the mat by the door to see that Noah's shoes aren't there. He smiles to himself and kicks his own shoes off, then rushes through his bedroom door and closes it behind him. When he locks it, he notes the erection growing in his jeans.

Giddy, Jacob places the package on his bed, cuts the packing tape with his keys, pulls open the flaps, and peers inside.

A pool of packing peanuts fills the box. Jacob carefully wiggles his fingers into it until he can confidently grasp the large PVC figure buried within, and gently pulls it out.

"Yes," he whispers to himself, as he gently removes additional packing materials from the figure, "she's perfect."

He sets the figure on his large computer desk and sits in his leather gaming chair to admire it. She's twelve inches tall with porcelain white skin. Her large eyes and joyful grin fill her thin face, leaving only a small spot for her miniscule and pointed nose. Sky blue hair cascades down from her head, and swirls around her petite body. She wears a tight white blouse and a short, pleated black skirt that blooms behind her as she leans forward in a dynamic pose. The blouse is open at the top, revealing her firm breasts barely supported by a tiny black bra.

Jacob's chair squeaks as he leans back and unzips his pants.

"I've been waiting for you a long time," he speaks softly to the figure. "I can't believe you're finally here."

He pulls his half-hard penis through his fly and starts to stroke himself.

"I'm glad we didn't have to wait before we--" Jacob notices another plastic figure at the end of his desk. It's smaller. A blonde girl.

He releases himself, stands, takes the blonde figure in his hand, and walks a few steps to a large display shelf against the wall. It's full of other such figurines and collectables with varying levels of undress. Jacob places the blonde one in a free space, and hurries back to his seated position in front of his brand new, blue-haired delight.

He turns the figure slightly so that she isn't facing him directly. She has a more playful look from this angle.

"You tease," Jacob thinks while he continues to stroke himself. He imagines her touch, her small, cool fingers running along his inner thighs, tickling their way to his balls. He shivers.

With another turn of the figure, Jacob now has full sight up her short black skirt. Pale pink panties cling to a smooth, hard ass. Tiny painted daisies adorn her underwear, and he appreciates the attention to detail.

Standing, Jacob unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down just below his butt. He squeezes a hot bead of pre-cum from his cock and, with the figure at roughly waist height, he teases her tiny ass crack with the wet tip. He flinches at the cold sensation, and imagines the sound of her soft, high-pitched moan.

Peering down from above into her tight, open blouse, her tits call out to him. They beg for their due. Their gift. He pulls back from the figure, turns it to face him again, and begins to masturbate faster.

As he prepares to climax, he grips his ass cheek hard with his other hand and aligns himself with the figure. She stares forward blankly, without recognition of the purply, swollen cock less than an inch from her tiny, happy face.

Jacob groans. Hot cum pumps from his cock in waves over the figure. She looks on cheerfully as it glazes her hair, her face, and runs down sloppily over her chest, into the hard plastic cleavage and the stiff ripples of her white blouse.

With a sigh, Jacob slumps back into his chair and admires his work. His coated idol looks back at him without any less pleasure on her face and enjoys the warmth of her reward. Jacob continues to stroke himself, savouring the gently fading pleasure of his orgasm.

As he does, his mind wanders back to the statue in the park. She was like something out of a dream. Though he does love his brightly coloured, energetic, and often lewd character figures, that lovely park denizen possessed a decidedly different aura. She was about subtleties and unpretentious elegance. And there was something nostalgic and familiar about her, like vintage porn.

As a glob of cum falls from the figure and plops softly onto the desk, he determines he'll return to her tonight.

It's 11:30pm. Jacob sits on the same park bench, gently lit by a streetlamp. He's been sitting there for thirty minutes already, waiting for foot traffic to die down. As the rate of late-night joggers and dog walkers slows, his heart rate increases in anticipation.

He's been admiring the statue, but only in short intervals. To appear less weird or suspicious, he spends a good deal of time on his phone. Nonetheless, he notes the new quality of her beauty in the night. Her skin is golden in the light of her own lamp nearby, and she stands glowing in stark contrast to the deep, dark greens and blacks that surround her.

Jacob wonders about who she is and where she came from. He considers what might be her name, and what may be her thoughts and dreams.

"Mabel," he thinks. "So gentle and kind."

Her Old-World aesthetic reminds him of the fantasy realms he often inhabits in his spare time. She'd fit right in.

"A lovely, young maiden walking the cobblestone streets, perusing the curious and enchanting wares of the town's merchants and artisans; humming lilting melodies to herself or to passing children; dreaming of a suitor she may encounter someday soon," he imagines.

But, reflecting on her silky dress, her luscious, braided hair, and the crown of flowers she wears on her head--there's something decidedly magical about Mabel.

"A gently fairy of the woods," he imagines, changing course. "She cares for the greenery and the delightful creatures of nature that populate it. Her presence is warm and peaceful."

Jacob sighs.

Clearly hearing his own breath, he realizes that a silence has fallen on the whole park. He slowly scans the area to confirm that he's alone, then shifts to the other, more shaded side of the wooden bench. With his heart pumping, he once again unzips his jeans, and pulls his penis out and into his hand.

Jacob sits perfectly still, unable to believe himself. He's alone on a park bench in the middle of the night--with his dick out. But despite the doubts, his erection swells in his hand. He takes one last, cautious look around the park, and slowly starts to stroke himself. Slowly, shallowly, but deliberately.

"You look after this place, don't you? This peaceful corner of a hectic, dirty city."

He gazes at her.

"It's amazing what you've done. I can't believe I've never spent time here. You fill this place with magic and wonder."

"And you..." He deepens his strokes slightly. "You're so beautiful."

Jacob shifts his butt forward and leans back more comfortably on the bench, fully immersed in his fantasy. With his eyes, he traces again the curves of her hips behind the wide, shallow dish she holds in front of them. And then down her legs to her ankles. Her bare, golden ankles. He hadn't noticed them before, but their sharp angles impress him. He imagines them lightly bumping against his own as their bodies entwine, and he nibbles at his lower lip.

"But who cares for you?" he thinks, looking back to her face. "You spend your time here generously with the birds and the squirrels, but who is generous with you? We all need someone to care for us from time to time. To keep us company. We all need love..."

The tip of Jacob's penis is starting to leak, and the head is wettened gradually with each gentle stroke.

"I would be honoured to love you, Mabel. If you would have me."

She smiles shyly, unable to meet his gaze.

Jacob allows his eyes to drift to her chest. Mable's breasts are quite modest but firm, and he attempts to translate the sight of their form into the sensations they would create in his hands. He imagines how they fill his palms as he cups them lovingly. They don't feel hard, metallic, and cold, but supple and warm. Her small nipples harden against his hands.

"Don't worry, Mabel. You can trust me; I would never mistreat you. I understand what it's like to be hurt."

Jacob looks down at the cool grass between them.

"But you could never hurt me," he says, again admiring her solid form and unwavering expression of kindness.

"You deserve so much more. You should be the guardian of this whole city. And its people would worship you. You're a beautiful spirit to be revered. To be honoured!"

An idea enters Jacob's mind. He prepares to stand but is suddenly conscious of the open space between them. He looks around the park, nervously, then back to Mabel. She continues to smile encouragingly in his direction, and so he tucks his penis back into the fly of his jeans and rises with purpose from the wooden bench.

Swiftly crossing a narrow gravel path, then a wide patch of grass, Jacob comes to stand next to Mabel. He positions himself on the left side of her bowl, facing inward, and with his back to the lamp light.

"We may not have much time, but I needed to be close to you," he whispers to her.

Jacob notices Mabel's lowered gaze. She's looking at the bulge in his pants.

"Here. Touch it," he says, pulling himself from his pants again with his left hand. He takes a quick look around and over his shoulder. Bending his knees slightly, he rubs his cock against the back of her left hand that supports the bowl, and it skips softly over each small knuckle.

He shivers. She's even colder than the blue-haired figure from earlier. But his pleasure is in no way diminished, and the contact awakens something in him. Jacob begins to stroke himself again with vigor while holding his cock against the back of her hand.

"Do you like it, my love? It's all for you."

Jacob puts his right arm around Mabel and strokes her back.

"Like I said, you deserve it. And much more."

He finds her ass and palms her right cheek.

"So, let me do this for you. Let me honour you."

He stands a little taller, raises his cock over the edge of the bowl, and masturbates hard. The cool midnight breeze flutters the tree leaves above them, and the only other sounds to be heard are those of the occasional passing car in the distance.

"To your beauty. To your spirit of love and kindness."

Jacob takes a deep breath and holds it. He wants to match her humble silence. He leans his face against the top of Mabel's head and finally achieves his orgasm.

He cums generously into her dish. His thick, warm offering glides down the gently sloping inner wall of the bronze bowl, over thin layers of green algae and past a fallen leaf, to collect at the bottom with the unevaporated remainder of the day's gathered rainwater.

Jacob enjoys the sweet, floral scents of Mabel's crown of flowers as he lingers for a moment; the metallic smell of weathered bronze is only an afterthought. He then squeezes out the last of his semen, kisses her smooth, cold forehead and puts his penis away.

"You're amazing, Mabel," he mumbles.

When he hears the distant screech of car tires, Jacob is suddenly self-conscious, and shoots looks all around him, trying to pierce the darkness. Seeing no signs of shocked onlookers, hearing no shouts of disgust, he retreats to the dark corner of the park by the bench and waits for his galloping heartrate to slow.

Before making his way home, Jacob takes one final look at Mabel. At the beautiful young woman. At the cold hard statue in the center of the small park. And he sighs, a little melancholy to be leaving her behind.