Redhead girl outdoor fingering pussy and orgasm | Public masturbation in nature
The sun was high in a clear blue sky, its warm rays dappling through the canopy of leaves above and painting patterns on the soft moss below. Dappled green light illuminated the slender curves of the young redhead, Stacy Starando, sprawled out on her back in the middle of a secluded forest glade. Her ample chest rose and fell with each slow breath, its gentle swell barely contained by a flimsy white tank top.
Stacy’s eyes were closed in blissful relaxation, her face tilted up to the filtered sunlight. A wisp of a smile played about her lush, Cupid’s bow lips. Long lashes complemented her delicate features and that fiery hair which tumbled down around her shoulders in natural waves. She looked like a renaissance painting of a mythical wood nymph.
But there was a sensual air about her that the timeless artist hadn’t quite captured. The sway of her hips parted by tight designer jeans. The first button left undone on her top, teasing a hint of cleavage. The way her delicate feet were bare. Stacy was a woman, not some fantasy rung from a poem. And she had a hunger that only she could satisfy.
With a sigh, she rolled over onto her stomach. Elbows planted in the springy moss, she leaned down and nuzzled her face against a large fern. Her pert behind rose up, clad in authentically worn denim. One narrow ankle crossed over the other, accentuating her shapely legs.
Stacy ran a hand over the leaves as if pricing the fern for groceries. A cherry-picked secret smile graced her features, belied by the innocent setting. Unobserved, or so she believed, she indulged her true cravings. No one would see her shocking exploit buried in the heart of the wilderness.
Her hand trailed up to the waistband of her low-cut jeans. With a deft snap of the button, they sprang open. Stacy hooked her fingers into the waistband and eased down the zipper. Jeans and lacy panties slipped over her curvy hips and down her thighs, revealing smooth skin and delicate creases.
The cool breeze against her bareness made Stacy shiver. Anticipation quickened her pulse. She slid a hand down to her mound, finding it already slick with arousal. Two fingers pushed into her heated core. Stacy couldn’t hold back a throaty moan. She pumped lazily, caressing her own microcosmetics.
Waving fern fronds and the backdrop of towering evergreens formed the perfect curtain for Stacy’s outdoor performance. Determined to make it count, she whorled a fingertip around her throbbing clot until it sparkled with increments of her own essence. That sweet bud was wide and exposed, begging for attention.
Sinking back a second finger, Stacy worked her passage, twisting and curling as if to scoop out the very beginnings of orgasm. Her other hand reached up to free a pert mound from its flimsy confines. The puckered pink of an erect nipple almost begged to be touched. And touched she did – rhythmically, roughly, never losing the steady penetration.
Silken walls rippled around Stacy’s passionate thrusts. She was close. The taut coil in her belly pulled like piano wire. Blood roared in her ears. Impatient fingers moved in a blur, seeking friction against her quivering button. A staccato gasp escaped each time she grazed her clit. Staccato and then guttural as the tension reached breaking point.
An anguished cry tore from Stacy’s throat as her climax ripped through her. Her core contracted violently, rippling all the way to her toes. Every nerve hummed with electricity. The world grayed out as pulsing ecstasy peeled Stacy off the planet and into oblivion. Ecstasy that none in the vicinity could guess at.
They say a picture is worth a thousand words…but some depictions would take an entire thesaurus to capture. As if suspecting the incredible solo act was being captured on what would become the most viewed video in certain circles, Stacy flopped bonelessly at last, smeared in her own juices, a creature of appetites sated by an impossible medley of context, sensation, and the surpassing bliss of orgasm.
The forest, unknowing, continued to live and breathe around the unfortunate young woman’s defilement of its mossy glens, and the streams, and the trees, and the ferns and lichen.
