This Really Sucs

I strongly advise reading Part 1 to understand the characters and context of the story. Warning: these chapters include nudity, watching porn, voyeurism and masturbation.

Chapter Three

I woke up around seven-thirty after a great sleep. The sun was shining, and all seemed right with the world. My world anyway. The world outside was probably still a mess. Rob had clearly already had breakfast and, as I discovered, done a bunch of chores. I wondered what time his day started. I found him in the cow shed standing by one of the cows.

"Good Morning!" I said, standing there in my boots, PJs, and parka.

"Good Morning! Did you sleep well? Have you had breakfast? I can get you something."

"Yes, I slept very well, and No, I have not had breakfast yet, but I can get it myself. No need to disturb you." I paused and watched him. "You won't remember but when I was eight, we came here, and Aunt Jill taught me how to milk the cows."

"I don't imagine you have had much chance to practice since. Why not take a turn?"

He pulled over a stool and I sat down. He put a bucket between my legs and handed me some nitrile gloves. "Nowadays we use gloves."

I put them on, took hold of two of the udders and began the firm squeeze and pull-down technique I remembered. For a moment nothing happened but then there was a satisfying stream of milk from each udder to the pail. When the stream of milk stopped, I had almost filled the pail.

"Well done! I'll take over from here. You obviously remembered well."

I thought better of telling him about the injury I had almost caused my first boyfriend, when I thought the same technique could be used for a hand job. Maybe, if we got better acquainted. It meant I would never forget the technique though.

"I'll go and get dressed and have some breakfast."

After breakfast I went back up to the studio. As I predicted He had tidied up. While the stack of landscapes, still life art and renditions of animals was still there, the nude studies of him had been put away, possibly in the locked metal cabinet that stood against one wall. I decided to use the studio myself and began with a series of quick pencil sketches of the outbuildings and the horses. Later when he dropped by and offered constructive criticism, I began to get an idea.

The next day I drew a nude of an imaginary young woman and deliberately got the proportions wrong. When he stopped by, he pointed out the most obvious errors. "You have the head too small. That's a common mistake. Also, the breasts are too close together. Look at your own in the mirror." I resisted the urge to pull my shirt over my head and say "You look at them" right there and then.

"I guess I'm better with animals" I said. Considering I was one of the best in my life drawing classes this was a joke, but he did not know.

"Did Aunt Jill ever draw or paint life studies or portraits?"

"Yes, she did. I think she had a talent for it."

"Do have any you could show me?"

He hesitated. Was he really going to refuse?

"I'll see if I can find some that might be helpful to you."

"Thank you." Now I would just have to wait and see.

Watching the news on my laptop, I was starting to become familiar with the new vocabulary. There were shortages everywhere of PPE or personal protective equipment. Nowhere more so than here at the farm, where we did not have a mask to share between us. We did have plenty of gloves as they were in regular use now when looking after the animals. It did not really matter as Rob and I were the only ones in contact with each other. We were in the new parlance a "bubble." That made me chuckle thinking of our shower together. However, since then sadly it had become a damned awkward bubble.

After our sauna experience, we were tiptoeing round each other for a couple of days. I tried to behave normally, but he was as skittish as a pregnant mare. We ate together and talked about the news and made bland conversation about topics of the day but that was it. I felt our relationship had taken three steps backwards, even though he was always anxious to make sure I had everything I needed. Everything that is except him. I could not get him out of my mind. Was this a teenage-style crush or Stockholm syndrome?

He excused himself to go to his office at the slightest opportunity. Over the next few days much to my disappointment we did not share a sauna, hot tub, or shower. Although I continued to use them, the sauna and hot tub were not nearly as much fun on my own.

Apparently, Rob had a large order of groceries delivered every two weeks and an order of booze on a less regular basis. Otherwise, our food needs were met by the farm itself. For the time being I had brought a good supply of toiletries and feminine products. It appeared that even here Amazon could deliver almost anything I might want if I were prepared to wait for it. Their shipping focus had shifted to COVID essentials.

Every day on the news I saw the latest news on the spread of COVID and heard updates from the Chief Medical officer and the Prime Minister and other politicians and health specialists on the spread of the pandemic. Thankfully, it seemed much more under control than in our neighbour to the south. There were some serious outbreaks in certain seniors' long-term care homes but not much in the wider community. As far as I could tell there were no cases locally.

As the days passed, we still went riding together, but he was not going to repeat what he clearly thought of as an error of judgement. He seemed to believe he was my moral guardian. I don't know if my mum had said something or it was just a notion of his own. Pretty insulting considering I'm over twenty.

I made a practice of leaving my curtains open when I got ready for bed, but I was not sure if he ever spied on me or not. I began to walk to and from the bathroom whenever I took a shower with my robe loosely tied and occasionally falling open. But he was rarely in my side of the house, and if he knew I didn't elicit a single comment, not even an admonition. It was as though he had stopped seeing me. When I closed the curtains and got into bed, I would summon up memories of his naked body and his stiffening cock, which in my fantasies would grow to unimaginable proportions, although never too large for my insatiable cunt.

My unforgivable packing error was that I had not thought to bring my toys. Yes, those toys. The ones we depend on for satisfaction even when we are getting regular sex. And at this point in my life, I had had precious few relationship where I was getting sex regularly. I had to make do with my fingers and a suitably shaped plastic bottle of liquid soap.

On a couple of occasions, I even used vegetables that I pinched from the kitchen, a cucumber, and a large banana. The cucumber was best, but none of the things I could find either pulsed or rotated. While my uncle might well have assumed, I ate the bananas, he never remarked on the absence of a whole large cucumber. They weren't exactly growing in the garden at this time of year. Maybe he had his suspicions or maybe he was unobservant. I considered ordering a vibrator from Amazon, but when I looked online the shipping date was about six weeks away, plus how could I do it without Rob knowing.

I contemplated leaving the curtains open and pleasuring myself in full view with the lights on, but I thought if he's not watching what's the point and if he is, he might think I'm a skank. I was ready to be openly flirtatious and provocative, but I did not want him to dismiss me as a slut. The truth is that while I'm dying for an honest to God fuck, I would like it to be meaningful and romantic. Right now, I crave a relationship.

On Sunday morning while he was in church on Zoom, I took a coffee back up to the studio. My 'corrected nude' sketch of a young woman was still on the easel. I noticed a new stack of canvases leaning against the door of the metal cabinet and hurried over. There were about a dozen. The first four were clothed studies: Three of my Aunt, and one of Uncle Rob. The next two were portraits, the faces of my aunt and my uncle. The next one was a study of various hands and feet. The last five were nudes: three were clearly my aunt, one sitting and two standing, nothing hidden except by the pose. The last two were my uncle: the first the back view I had seen before and the second almost full frontal but with one arm draped in front of 'you know where'. What a rip!

Next to the metal cabinet on the small section of wall that had no window was a full-length mirror. By repositioning the easel, I could see the full-length reflection of myself. I quickly stripped, took a fresh page on a pad of newsprint, and completed some quick sketches to loosen up.

I replaced the pad of newsprint with one of the prepared canvases and laid down a magenta-coloured background in acrylic paint. I like magenta. I usually end up covering the entire canvas with other colours, but it can add luminescence to the quality of light captured in warm lighter colours. I lightly sketched in the reflection of myself and painted it blue. The blue gives the eventual flesh tones of the human body a good three-dimensional feel. If you are Caucasian, even if you have a healthy tan, the blue of your veins is still visible everywhere. Next came my hair, which by now with the pandemic isolation was longer than usual. As my pose was slightly angled towards the easel, I positioned a part of my hair to flow over my shoulder to lie beside my right breast. I worked quickly mixing flesh tones to contrast the tan of my face and forearms with the lighter tones of my shoulders and torso that had been out of the sun for two many months now.

I generally work from dark to light in acrylics or oils. Something you can't do with watercolours. With that in mind I used a small palette knife to introduce a patch of rich chestnut pubic hair slightly darker than the hair on my head. I'm more of a mousy brown, but before coming up here I had done a curb-side pick-up of a good supply of my favourite hair-colouring and I like the carpet to match the drapes. Deft strokes with the edge of the knife shaped the pubic patch into the neatly trimmed landing strip I try to maintain. The hair looked good enough to chew on. While down there I added visible and slightly swollen labia as mine were now, getting excited by my task.

Still using the knife, I went back to add more depth to my hair and added the appropriate highlights for where the sun from the large skylight was hitting it. I work fast and had been going at it for two and half hours, when Rob walked in. I was just back to adding lighter flesh tones to accentuate the paleness of my breasts and bikini line. He was blown away. I don't know whether he was more surprised by my nakedness, or the obvious quality and experience shown by my art.

I turned to him. "What do you think?" He looked from me to the canvas and back several times appraising and comparing both, in detail, I might add.

"Obviously, I still have quite a lot to do." I added, as he stood there silent and blushing.

"Despite the drawings you saw earlier I am a serious artist, you know."

"I can see that." He said speaking at last. "You certainly caught me by surprise in a good many ways. When I finished working, I wondered where the hell you got to."

Then he surprised me. "If you'd allow me, I'd like to paint you some time."

"Deal, but only if you allow me to paint you, and we are talking nude." There I had said it.

He looked at me for a long minute and then said: "Deal!"

That's how it began. Much of the awkwardness around each other was gone as our conversations evolved around tones and techniques and our past experiences. Of course, he had mostly learned by watching my aunt and roving the internet. Mostly he just gave his natural aptitude full reign.

After lunch two days later, on our first painting date he produced a second easel. Without ceremony we stripped off and we stood there at duelling distance capturing likenesses of each other's naked bodies. Now I really was looking at that impressive cock in his equally impressive body, and I could feel my body responding to it, but I shook that off and focused on my painting. After an hour or so we took a break and looked at each other's work.

I had cooled down and we stood beside each other with no more fuss that if we were platonic friends on a nude beach. It was clear my work contained a lot more explicit detail than his, but then mine was after realism and his was more expressionist. However. he had captured my aroused nipples (unlike the rest of the house that was always pleasantly warm, it wasn't that hot in the studio) and a blush above my breasts that I had not been aware of, which had nothing to do with the cold. His colours were vibrant, and his painting may have ended up being sexier, while mine was more clinical. It surprised me.

I had much to learn from and about this man.

He surprised me again after we finished our session, when he said "I turned the hot tub on before we started. If you feel like a sauna, that is?"

"Sure. No need to put on clothes then." I said putting on the bathrobe, which I had worn to the studio. "I'll just grab a towel."

Was this to be the moment I had dreamed of? Well not so much dreamed but fantasized about with many variations in explicit detail. I was already hornier than the proverbial horny toad.

"There's a fresh supply of towels over there. You'll need your mukluks, and it will be cold walking over there."

"I'll soon get warm again."

"Well, take something warm to wear coming back."

"Good idea. I'll see you over there." I did not know what had led to the transformation in his attitude and I wasn't going to ask. I went to my room, hung up the robe and grabbed a sweater and jeans. Holding them I headed to the mud room. I slipped on my mukluks and with my clothes in my hands I went outside.

The days were getting lighter and I enjoyed the feeling if sun on my naked body. It had only taken a matter of minutes before I was seated on a towel in the sauna. No need to wrap my boobs or anything, we had no secrets now.

He came in a moment later saying, "I like to have a quick shower first, if I've been doing anything physical." He stopped to ladle water on the rocks. A great hiss of steam filled the air and the temperature jumped. He was right in front of me and I could not help glancing at his cock as he moved to sit down a couple of feet away from me. It seemed at peace. I wished all my bits were. I was positively leaking I was so wet. I hoped he could not smell my arousal, but I must be shedding pheromones or whatever you do with them.

Well, it didn't seem to be affecting him. He talked about the painting session saying he had no idea I was so talented. I complimented him on his style saying it had an individualism that I felt mine lacked. He said I had plenty of time, and I wondered whether it really was a matter of time or God-given talent? This auto -didact was gifted in so many ways. Then, we sat in silence for a few minutes.

"You may be surprised, perhaps confused, that I have decided not to be so scared of being nude around you. I was scared. No, I was terrified. You are young and gorgeous, and I have been on my own too long. When I first saw you, I almost asked your mother to take you away again, but of course I couldn't do that."

"That first time I came to the sauna" he continued "I expected to find you there. I was kind of daring myself, but then after the hot tub I totally freaked. I was just not ready."

I said nothing. This was interesting, perhaps promising, but he was talking very matter-of-factly, not like a stallion in heat.

"Well, strange as it may seem you can thank your aunt. I had a dream two nights in a row, where she explicitly told me to grow up and accept that you had no hang-ups with nudity and neither had we ever. She said it was bending me out of shape." He got up to ladle more water on the rocks. I really must stop focussing on his cock every time he moved.

"I did notice you seemed more relaxed now." I said, "I'm so much more comfortable." It seemed like the right thing to say, and it was true in a sense despite my longings.

"Good, I am too. Your aunt often would not put on a stitch of clothing for days during the summer, whether she was indoors or out." If a visitor saw her, she would just wave and say she hello. She didn't care, and the farm hands we had in those days were used to it."

Suddenly I remembered why the face of the other man my aunt had painted in the nude was familiar. He had helped me when I was first learning to ride, and his name was ...Tom....no...Tony.

"What happened to Tony? I asked.

"Nothing happened to Tony. He still lives nearby, but he works for the guy that bought the rest of my land. He and Jeff make much better wages than when they worked for me, as they never cease to remind me."

We sat for a few more minutes in a comfortable silence before he said: "hot tub?"

Maybe this was where it would happen.

We went barefoot and naked through the snow to the hot tub. He went first and I had a chance to watch his taut buns for a change. He really was in good shape. He stopped by a chest, opened it, and picked out two bunches of twigs. He offered me one and I took it.

"You just tap yourself as hard or gently as you want to stimulate your circulation. Sometimes I do it in the sauna, but I find this works just as well."

"Wouldn't it be easier if we did each other?"

"Well, yes. Jill and I always did. But only if you feel comfortable with that."

"Sure, turn round." He turned his back to me and I gently wacked his shoulders with the twigs.

"A bit harder, please." So, I upped my game hitting his back and going down to those delicious buns.

"That's more like it. Your turn."

I turned away from him and felt the first wack on my back. It really smarted.

"OK?"

"Yes, that's fine, but no harder."

He gave me a few more light wacks across my shoulders, back and butt, and I could feel my skin warming. In fact, not just my skin, I found this quite sensual.

"That's enough, thanks."

As we climbed into the hot tub, it appeared he had found it a little exciting too.

I sat close to him and put my hand on his back. "Not too hard?"

"No fine. Thanks Phil." he said. I think it was the first time he had called me Phil.

I wanted to drop my hand into his lap, but instead put my hands on my own knees so I would know where they were. I would have loved for him to touch me, but I knew now that wasn't going to happen.

"Shower time." I said after we had relaxed for a while in silence. We got out and he brought the twigs with him. I wondered what he was going to do with them. It turned out he was just going to rinse them, and he put them against the wall as I turned on the two rain heads. We each stepped under a shower and started to soap ourselves with liquid soap.

"Could you do my back?" I asked, turning away from him. He did not reply, but I quickly felt his hands firmly scrubbing the small of my back, while I did my shoulders. He finished as I moved to soap my butt.

"Your turn." I said turning round. He turned away from me. I gently washed down his back and continued down to his buns. I felt him stiffen under my touch and wondered what else was stiffening. The urge to continue between his thighs was almost irresistible; almost, but I resisted.

He turned back towards me. Perhaps afraid of where I might go next. Yes, he had definitely stiffened. It had lifted a little way from his body and hung out above his heavy balls. My nipples had also responded not only to his touch but to my touching him. I so wanted to reach out and touch him, but I knew I could not go there, not for now.