Note: This story is a sequel of sorts to an earlier story, Painting Lessons. Though not at all essential, you may wish to read that first.

Jenny on Deck

My friend Nils had a standing invitation to visit a well-known painter friend of his, Joe Marko, who said he’d be happy to have me along for a weekend visit. It was a two-hour drive up from the city, and near the end we thought we might be lost, but then we found the turnoff. Joe met us out front of the two-story cabin, and he showed us our bedrooms. We dropped off our bags and met out on the back deck, which overlooked a stream. Nothing but woods and meadows all around. “Sometimes you hear a chainsaw,” Joe said. “I don’t like it, but what can you do?”

“Move further into the wilderness?” Nils suggested.

“Naw, we’re here to be closer to the city. Jenny, that’s my niece, needs museums and plays from time to time. Hm, I thought she’d be back by now. She’s out for a run.”

Joe went in to fix us a drink he called honey-lemon. “Just like the name says,” he told us. “After dark, though, I add a little whiskey.”

Before Joe got back with the drinks, we met Jenny. She had a glorious tan, honey blonde hair, and a fetching smile. She was much younger than Joe, maybe mid-twenties. She was wearing nothing but a pale pink tee shirt. “Hey,” she said. “Joe said I should come out and say hi. I hope you don’t mind I’m all sweaty. After my run I like to have a fuck before my shower.”

Nils and I didn’t know what to say to that. Jenny sat on a deck chair opposite us.

“Um, hi,” I said. “It’s really nice out here. Very peaceful.”

“Yes,” Jenny agreed. “Very private. Very natural. No lawn to mow. Winter we don’t bother shoveling the snow. Peaceful too, but it can be pretty wild. The other day I was sitting out here right around this time of day and an eagle flew over. It had snagged something, a squirrel, and it dropped it. The squirrel landed just short of the stream. The eagle flew off. I went out to check. At first I thought it was dead. Then it twitched, poor thing. I went to get a shovel from the shed so I could finish him off, and when I got back he was gone.”

While Jenny was telling us about the eagle and the squirrel, she’d lifted one leg to her chair, and her hand moved to her sex.

She touched herself, not lasciviously but casually, as if it were an everyday sort of thing. I found it almost impossible to avert my eyes. It occurred to me that my view was much better than Nils’. From his vantage he would be able to tell she was masturbating, but he wouldn’t be able to see the specifics.

“Where do you think he went?” I asked.

Jenny stopped her masturbation. Her eyes were glazed. The sunlight glanced off a spot of moisture on her clearly erect clitoris. “Ah,” she said. “What?”

“Maybe the eagle came back and got him,” Nils speculated.

“Oh, right, the squirrel,” Jenny said. Her forefinger resumed a slow, circular motion about her clit. “Could have been the eagle. Or a fox. Or maybe it had just been stunned, and it...”

“Got away,” I said, completing Jenny’s sentence while her body shivered and seized.

“Whew,” she said, brushing her moist fingertip on the fabric of the deck chair. “I think I’ll go get that shower now. Nice meeting you.”

She got up from her chair just as Joe was arriving with a tray of the honey-lemons.

Art and Then Some

Later that afternoon, Joe suggested he and Nils make artistic use of Jenny.

“Don’t I have a say in this?” Jenny said.

Joe chuckled. “You know you love posing.”

“Am I going to be nude?” Jenny asked.

“Of course,” Joe said.

“If you hadn’t lost that ankle bracelet I got you, you could have worn that.”

“It must have snagged on something,” Jenny said. “And I think it threw my running off balance.”

Joe chuckled again and carried one of the kitchen chairs to the corner of his studio. “If you want to join in,” he said to me, “ ... we’ve got plenty of supplies.”

“I’ll be very happy just to watch,” I said, “ ... assuming Jenny doesn’t mind.”

“I do mind,” Jenny said. “If you watch without creating art...”

“Ha,” I said, “ ... no way what I might draw could ever be considered art.”

“Okay, but you’re a writer, right?” she said.

“I try,” I acknowledged.

“So you can write about it.”

I said I’d give it a try.

Jenny stripped off her clothing and sat in the chair and Joe and Nils pulled their chairs into position, right next to each other. Jenny shifted to one side, presenting her profile. “Ha,” Joe snorted, “ ... don’t want us to see your pussy, eh?”

Jenny twisted her head to smile at him. “How long do you think this is going to take?” she asked.

“So impatient,” Joe said. He looked at Nils. “Do you think an hour would be enough?”

Nils said an hour would be fine. They took up their pencils.

From my vantage I couldn’t see their drawing pads, and I thought it would be rude to look over their shoulders. But I have to admit, I was much more interested in observing Jenny, rude or not. The room was quiet except for the scritch of pencils, or chalk, or whatever it was they were using.

Occasionally one or the other would make a comment.

“Doesn’t she have the most beautiful hair?” Joe said.

“She does,” Nils answered, “ ... it just eats up the light.”

Joe said, “Sometimes I think her hair is made of light.”

Jenny said, “Save a lot of money on shampoo if it were.”

After some minutes, Joe said, “You know I’m not taking advantage of her. We trade off days. One day she poses for me, the next day I pose for her. Today just happens to be her day to pose.”

“I think you get the best of that deal,” Nils said. “Not that you’re not a worthy specimen.”

“Specimen is it?” Joe said.

“Can we see some of her pictures of you?” I asked.

“Only if you pose for me,” Jenny said.

I said that would be fine with me.

“You know you’d be naked,” Joe said.

I had to pause at that. “I guess that would be all right,” I said.

“And she might make you masturbate,” Joe said.

“Oh Joe, you’re spoiling the fun,” Jenny said.

“You’ve made me masturbate often enough,” Joe said.

“Not as often as you make me,” Jenny said.

“Because you love it,” Joe said.

“I do,” Jenny confessed. “It excites me and then it relaxes me.”

The conversation ended there, but not a minute later Jenny’s hand moved between her legs. I studied the motion of her arm, the motion of her hips, the expression on her face as she touched herself. Now, in addition to the noise of Joe’s and Nils’ sketching, I could hear Jenny’s small purrs—soft, delicate, and without a doubt sexual. I wondered what was going through her mind as she masturbated. I wondered if I would dare ask her later on. After five minutes or so, her purring became more urgent. Her hips pressed upward with more force and with each thrust remained a moment longer at the apex. Her other hand went to her breast. Her fingertip stroked the erect nipple, one stroke for each push of her hips. Her purrs changed to words, or anyway ohs, one oh per nipple stroke, and then a gasp, a long, drawn out oh, and she tilted herself slightly to the side, twisted slightly away, and I could see her sex, a crescent of cunt lip, obviously wet with sex seep, and then she sat back, shuddering for several seconds as the orgasm had its way with her. After that she slumped forward. I looked over at Joe and Nils. They were watching, not doing any art at all.

“Well, that was nice,” Joe said after another few minutes had passed.

“Very nice,” Nils agreed.

“Mmm,” Jenny purred. She dipped a finger between her legs, then brought it to her mouth. “Mmm. You boys want a taste?”

I thought she was just teasing, but she wasn’t.

Kingdom Kum

Joe said we should be sure to take a look at Jenny’s paintings. “She’s got more talent in her little finger than I have in my you -know-what,” he told us. “She should be in her studio now. Go on up.”

Nils and I were a little anxious, maybe fearing (or hoping) she’d be naked. “Hey, guys,” she greeted us. She was wearing cutoffs and a paint-spattered top. “Just about finished with this one.”

It was a big canvas, a lush green meadow with a young woman sitting on a tree stump. The woman was naked. The woman was clearly Jenny. “It’s called ‘Kingdom Kum,’ that’s Kum with a K,” Jenny said. “It’s a remake of something I did about a dozen years ago in high school. Back then it was called ‘Meadow Meditation.’ You want to hear the story?”

Nils and I nodded.

“The tree before it was a stump was a real beauty. It was much too big to climb except in my dreams. Then one day it got hit by lightning. One huge limb fractured. I asked my dad if we could save it and he said no way, it was a goner. He was going to saw it down for firewood. I pleaded for him to leave the stump. There was a hole in it, and I was sure animals lived there. Maybe a family of foxes. ‘It’ll be an eyesore,’ my dad said. ‘Please, please, please,’ I begged, and so the stump was saved.

“After school sometimes I’d sit on the stump and do my homework. One day Danny Greb came by. He was kind of a pitiful boy, full of mischief. He wanted everyone to call him The Grebber, but everyone called him The Grubber. Poor Danny Greb. But he was sweet on me, as they say. I showed him nonchalant disdain. ‘So why you s-s-sittin’ on the stump?’ he asked. When he got nervous sometimes he’d stutter. He got teased about that a lot. ‘Why you hissing like a snake,’ I said, ‘and anyway none of your beeswax.’ Danny shrugged that off and said there were probably rabbits living in the stump. ‘And you know what they say about ruh-ruh-rabbits. They spend all their t-t-time making more rabbits. There’s too many rabbits in this world. I’m gonna get a stick of d-dynamite and stick it in the hole and blow them to Kingdom K-K-K-Kum. Get it? Kingdom Kum with a K.’ I told him that kingdom already was spelled with a K. ‘Not kingdom, kum,’ he said. ‘K U M. You know what that is?’ ‘No, what?’ I said. He smirked. ‘It’s what makes b-b-babies.’

“‘Go away, Grubber,’ I told him. I think that’s the only time I said something like that to him.

“‘F-f-fuck you,’ he said.

“‘Is that fuck with a K?’

“‘No, it’s fuck with a cock.’

“‘Is that cock with a K? Is that cock with a K in my K-K-K-Kunt?’

“Danny turned red and scampered away. Poor Danny. In high school he got Jenny Jackson, the other Jenny in my class, pregnant (though I was actually the other Jenny), and he ran off to join the army. He was killed in a training accident. I wondered what sort of training accident, but I didn’t have a good way to find out. I imagined he was crawling through a swamp and got bitten by a water moccasin. Poor Danny. Fact is, he was my first blowjob. I bit him a little bit, mostly by accident. Maybe the snake bit him right on his K-K-K-cock.”

“Sad story,” Nils said.

“It was,” Jenny said. “When I was a senior I painted the original of this picture. I thought it was pretty good at the time, and the art teacher, Mr. Heller, said it was truly fabulous, and he wanted me to enter it in the state show for juniors. But he didn’t like the title. ‘Kingdom Kum.’ Kind of my tribute to Danny. Mr. Heller said that I’d have to change the title and paint some clothes on the girl. I said no way. The next day, though, the girl was wearing clothes and the title was Meadow Meditation. I was so mad. See the girl in the painting, me obviously, was thinking about Danny, about his cock, and not long later had her first orgasm. I didn’t tell Mr. Heller that. He entered the painting and it won a prize.”

Apparently that was the end of the story. “Where is the painting now—the original?” I asked.

Jenny shrugged. “Probably hanging in the school. Or maybe Mr. Heller took it with him. He was fired a year later for hitting on some girl. I’m pretty certain the girl made up the story. I’m pretty certain Mr. Heller was gay.”

“Beautiful painting,” Nils and I agreed. We admired some of her other work in the studio, then went down to see what Joe was up to.