the Body Painting of Tammy

Body painting of Tammy This is a work of fiction. Please comment after reading.

You may have already read my story about my Hunting Camp Initiation. It was when my husband took me to his hunting camp, where all his buddies were gathered, and I was the camp slut for the weekend. It was a wonderful experience.

This is another story. My husband is in complete control of my body. He decides what I will wear, how I will groom myself, who I am exposing myself to, and who I will fuck. I love it that someone who loves me has complete mastery of my physical being. It is quite liberating but can be terribly embarrassing at times.

There are situations when I wish he would let me dress more modestly, but I love it that this lifestyle choice really turns him on. He knows that forcing me to wear a tiny top that exposes my breasts a bit, or lets my nipples pop out “accidentally” is very humiliating for me. But also, is very exciting. He has forbidden me to wear any undergarments. I no longer own a bra. He wants me to jiggle when I walk. He wants to see my nipples harden when I get aroused or excited. I must wear thin, clingy shirts that perfectly follow the contours of my breasts. I do have lovely tits and secretly enjoy showing them off, but it is still very distressing to me when my nipples get hard in inappropriate moments or around the wrong people. But my husband delights in that. So, I encourage him to “make” me wear revealing tops.

He also has forbidden me from wearing any panties. About the time when thong panties first became popular is when he started controlling my clothing choices. He had me wear thong panties and get rid of all my others. I didn’t mind because the thong fabric was stretchy and comfy. I loved the way they snuggled up next to my pussy lips. When I walked, they would just slightly pull against my clit, giving me a tiny bit of stimulation. I would sometimes be on the verge of an orgasm just from walking from the taxi to the office. I loved my thongs. But eventually my hubby decided that they were too restrictive. He wanted to have full access to my pussy whenever he wanted. And he wanted me to constantly be aware that my chooch could be exposed to the public if a breeze lifted up my dress. It is a thrill for him to see the occasions where I accidentally show the world my bare cunt. I don’t have to shave it since Hubby had me get all my pubic hair lasered off. So, I am always bare and smooth and not hidden behind a thick bush of pubic hair.

So, you now have the background information about me and my husband. Therefore, it should be no surprise to hear that my husband signed me up to be a nude model in a body painting exhibition. When he told me about it, I was shocked. It is one thing to wear clothing in public that is a bit too scanty, or I expose myself accidentally, but this is a completely different matter. These nude models for the body painting are just that, completely nude, right out in public. I was aghast at the thought of going downtown where this event was to be held and be totally naked for the entire world to see. I knew that my husband could not be able to resist telling his buddies about it and they would see me in all my naked glory. I was petrified, yet secretly excited about it.

The day came for the event. We drove downtown to the market center where all such events are held. It was a beautiful spring day. Cool and dry and perfect. The closer we got to the venue, the harder my heart pounded. I was nervous about stripping down to nothing in front of strangers, but more concerned about being naked in front of our friends. I knew they would all be there since my hubby did not make a secret of it around them. No one could believe I would do it, but they all wanted to see for themselves. I know why our male friends wanted to be there, but the women in our circle of acquaintances did too. I think they were hoping I would chicken out.

I signed in and was assigned an artist. It was a man. I secretly wanted a man to paint my privates. The artist was instantly happy to meet me. He told me I was beautiful and would make an excellent model. We found the designated spot for him to work on me which was right on the edge of where the spectators were standing. I was on a short platform, wearing only a thin robe. When he was ready, he asked me to remove the robe. Here was the moment of truth. I took a deep breath, then slowly undid the sash, and let the garment fall from my shoulders. My heart was pounding. My nipples were rock hard. I was dying to cover up and race out of there, but I fought the urge. I was totally nude for the world to see.

The artist was speechless. I don’t know what he expected but I could tell he was happy with my body. He stammered a bit, then regained his composure and picked up his brush. He asked me to stand with my legs spread apart so he could study his “subject”. His face was right at pussy level with me, so he saw every tiny detail of my womanhood. He stood and began to apply paint to my upper chest. My nipples were at full attention as the brush tip danced over my areolas. It felt exquisite. All that time going braless has helped my breasts develop muscle support, so they were standing up well against my chest.

He worked his way down my tummy and to my crotch. The paint felt like liquid silk against my skin. I had a heightened awareness of touch, and the brush was stroking all my nerve endings. As he brought the brush up to my pussy, I had a sudden fear. What if I had an orgasm from the touch of the delicate bristles against my pussy lips? That would be awful. I wonder if that ever happens, and would the spectators be able to tell what had just happened? I did my best to fight the sexual tension as that brush lightly dusted my cunt and clit. It felt incredible, yet horrible, since the touch could lead to such an embarrassing situation.

Thankfully, he finished painting my cooch and moved around to my hips. I looked around at the spectators and spotted a group of friends in the crowd. There were all the hunting club men and their wives. There were several of our neighbors, too. But worst of all there were the teenagers from our neighborhood that had come to see the “art exhibit”. I also saw that many of them had cameras. They were taking photos and video of me. Now my nakedness will be out there on the internet forever. I did not even think of that. Oh my god. I know that all those young men will be jacking off tonight as they watched their recording of me.

Thinking of those teen-age boys masturbating to the photos of me today reminded me that others have seen me naked. I have been exposed several other times courtesy of my husband. He loves to share me with his hunting club buddies and a few other *********** men. As I stood there my mind wandered back to the night where I experienced two men at the same time. It was glorious to be the center of attention. As my thoughts took me back to that weekend, my pussy started to get wet. My female lube started to build up inside me. I suddenly realized my pussy juices might run down my thigh, taking the paint with it. It would be obvious that my cunt was leaking. The more I fretted about the situation the worse it got. My brain was overloaded. There was the crowd, taking my pictures, there were the strangers seeing my nakedness for the first time, and there was the artist, dabbling paint on my body from just inches away. My pussy was on fire, dying to be touched and relieved of the tension.

The artist was finally done. He was checking his work and realized there was touch-up needed on my vagina. I was not paying attention until I realized he was about to touch the brush to my pussy lips. I could only watch as the brush touched me. That was all it took. I had an explosive orgasm. My hips went into a spasm. My pelvis suddenly hunched forward on to the brush, I shot a stream of squirt out of my vagina and screamed as a wave of pleasure erupted from my crotch. My knees buckled and I collapsed on top of the artist, who was crouched in front of me. I am not sure if I have ever had a stronger orgasm.

We both ended up on the ground, tangled up. The other models and artists just stood there, dumbfounded, as to what just happened. The artist helped me up and we regained our composure. Just then, an announcer came on the PA and said time was up and for the artists to cease painting. The judges started circulating among us and I did my best to stand on the platform without shaking too much. When the judges came to my station, they spoke quietly among themselves, then moved on. I was then allowed to put on my robe and sit. Being covered up was quite a relief.

The outcome of the competition was interesting. There were several awards given out. The judges gave my artist an award for his interesting portrayal of “the release”. I did not understand the meaning of calling his work “the release” until I got home, in front of a full-length mirror. I was about to step into the shower to wash off the paint when I saw the results of the artist’s effort. My orgasm and resulting squirt, had washed away the paint coming from my vagina, and it looked like an explosion had occurred between my legs. The “release” is what the judges dubbed my artist’s work, and that is exactly what it was. I don’t think I was ever so turned on by my exhibitionism. When my husband mentioned that this was an annual event, I quickly agreed to be a model again next year.

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