The Four Seasons
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Mult, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Fiction, Interracial, Black Female, White Male, Oriental Female, Oral Sex, Petting, Food, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism,
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A man wanders through nature alone, and finds himself meeting four unique women.
I stood at the cliff's edge, surveying the majestic scene before me. The sun was just beginning to rise over the snow-tipped mountains in the distance, sunlight scintillating off icicles in the pines' branches. In the gorge before me ran a wild river, rushing through the landscape. In the middle were Arcadian hills, punctuated with wildflowers emerging from their hibernation. It was beautiful.
I sat down, took out my canvas and paints, and began to attempt to capture the beauty of nature before me. I had come out to the wilderness alone for a weekend camping trip. I had planned to invite my girlfriend, but just before I was going to ask her, she had broken up with me, complaining that I focused too much on painting and nature and not enough on her. I was still devastated, but pouring myself into my work was helping to soothe my troubled soul.
Still, I thought, lightly dabbing a verdant-tipped brush against my canvas, bringing forth trees into existence, she wasn't entirely wrong. Even from my childhood, I had always loved to capture the world. I had started with crayons and moved to pencils and photography before discovering my true passion: painting. It let me capture so much more than just the physical beauty of what lay before me, but its inner beauty as well, the essence of the object that couldn't be seen, but only felt. The beauty of a contented landscape, a part of the Earth that was entirely perfect as it was. The world in its own beauty, free of mankind's designs upon it, free of the chains he laid down. What human woman could compare to the beauty of the mountains and springs, of the forests and fields, of the seasons? I sighed contentedly.
Just then, a sudden breeze erupted behind me, blowing my canvas out of my hands and down into the gorge below. I peered over the edge, watching its clumsy flight until it splashed into the gray waters below.
"I got his attention for you, sister. Now what?" said a bored, monotone voice in the wind.
"My thanks to you," replied a voice full of sincere affection. "What is your name, young artist?"
"Me?" I looked around, trying to find the source of the voices, but I was only surrounded by trees and rocks. "My name is Michael. Who are you?" What are you, I wondered to myself.
A deep, languid voice replied, "We'll get around to that, Michael, but first my sisters and I have a small little question for you."
"Yes?" I asked cautiously. Whoever these women were, I would only learn more by playing their games.
A girl giggled. "We all just adore your love of nature, and we can see how hurt your poor heart is, so we were thinking we should help you with a gift, and we thought you should get to choose, so we came to ask you, what's your favorite season, Michael? Make sure you answer truthfully..."
"Well," I began, thinking hard. This question seemed to carry a bit more gravitas than when people usually asked me which season I preferred. It was hard to decide. I loved the purity and freshness of winter, I enjoyed the heat and freedom of summer, I admired the colors and the providence of autumn, and I adored the vitality and life of spring. But, I supposed, if I absolutely had to choose, "I think my favorite is...
" ... spring." [Go to Chapter 2]
" ... summer." [Go to Chapter 3]
" ... autumn." [Go to Chapter 4]
" ... winter." [Go to Chapter 5]