Naughty by Nature: Part 1

An Exhibitionism story

The park looked like something out of a painting, sunlight catching in the tall grass, shadows slipping through the trees like silk scarves.

It was late afternoon, that golden hour when everything softens and glows, and the world feels like it's holding its breath.

Fabian held my hand loosely, but even in that light grip I could feel his presence. Grounded. Watchful and most importantly, mine.

We strolled slowly, as if we had nowhere to be. And maybe we didn’t. But I could feel something building in the air between us. Like a storm just beyond the horizon, waiting to roll in and drench me.

No one looked twice at us. A couple on a bench sipped iced coffees and scrolled on their phones. A dog chased a squirrel in dizzy circles. Joggers passed with earbuds and focused faces.

They had no idea what was happening inside me. No idea that my thighs were already sticky with arousal, that my body was thrumming with awareness of the man beside me.

I glanced at Fabian from the corner of my eye. He hadn’t said much since we arrived, and that silence was telling. He got like this sometimes, quiet and patient, but with an unmistakable current beneath the stillness. Like a lion lounging in the sun, all lazy elegance until it decided to pounce.

That gleam was in his eyes now. He was waiting for the right moment.

The moment I’d been fantasising about for months.

We’d talked about it late at night. I’d told him about the dream I kept having: being taken somewhere public, exposed, fucked where someone could see.

The danger, the possibility of discovery, it made everything more alive. More real. Id confessed it with a blush, half-hoping he’d dismiss it. He didn’t.

He just said, “One day.”

Today, I knew, was that day.

He gave my hand a subtle tug, steering us off the path and into the trees. I followed without a word. My heart started to race, my breath catching in my throat, but I didn’t ask where we were going. I didn’t need to. I trusted him. And more than that, I wanted this. I needed it in a way that was almost frightening.

The grass grew taller here, the air a little cooler. The clearing he led us into was quiet, tucked behind a line of dense oaks and wild bushes.

I felt my skin prickle, my senses sharpen. It was private, but not too private. The sounds of the world still drifted in. A bark. Laughter in the distance. The whisper of wind in the trees.

He stopped and turned to face me.

There was a heat in his eyes now, unmistakable. Heavy. It pinned me in place.

He didn’t touch me. Not yet. He just looked.

“You wore the dress,” he said, voice low.

I nodded. “You told me to.”

“And nothing underneath?”

I swallowed. “No, Sir.”

He let that linger. His eyes roamed my body, slow and deliberate and I felt it like a touch. Every inch of skin lit up in response, my nipples tightening beneath the thin fabric, my core clenching with want.

He stepped closer, but still didn’t reach for me. His restraint was maddening. Delicious.

“Do you remember what you told me you wanted?”

“Yes, Sir.” My voice was breathless, almost reverent.

“Say it.”

“I want to be taken,” I whispered. “In public. Where someone might see. I want the risk, the danger…… I want to be used like I’m yours. Completely.”

His jaw tensed, and I saw the flicker of raw desire flash through him. Then it was gone, masked again by that terrifying calm he wore so well.

He walked around me, slow, like he was circling prey. I stood still, trembling under the weight of his gaze. Every second he didn’t touch me was its own kind of foreplay, cruel and perfect.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured behind me.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.”

A breeze caught my dress, lifting it slightly. I knew he saw the way my thighs glistened. I wanted him to.

But still, he didn’t touch me.

Instead, he stepped in front of me again and opened the basket he’d carried, revealing a blanket, a bottle of wine, some strawberries and a small folded note.

He handed me the note. I unfolded it with shaking fingers.

You’ll do what I say. Exactly. No questions. If anyone sees, you will hold your head high. You are mine. And I want them to know it.

My breath caught. I looked up at him, heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.

“Do you accept?” he asked, voice like smoke.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.”

He stepped closer and cupped my jaw with one hand, his thumb brushing over my lower lip like he was already imagining it parted around his cock. But he didn’t move fast. He never did when he wanted me to beg.

His eyes locked on mine, dark, unwavering, and I felt it again, that delicious freefall sensation, like I was slipping under something bigger than me. Something I wanted more than air.

“I want you aching for me,” he murmured. “Before I even touch your cunt.”

The words struck low, curling in my belly like fire. I swallowed hard.

“Yes, Sir.”

He smiled slightly, pleased. Then leaned in and kissed me, slowly. Deeply. The kind of kiss that said we had all the time in the world, but he was going to use every second to ruin me.

His lips were soft at first. Just a brush, a coaxing. But then he tilted my chin and took more. His tongue slid against mine, hot and deliberate, and I melted into it. Into him.

I whimpered when he bit my bottom lip, just hard enough to sting.

“Good,” he whispered. “I want to hear everything. No holding back today.”

My knees were already weakening, my hands clutching the front of his shirt like it could anchor me. He kissed down my jaw, then lower, along my neck, pausing to suck hard just beneath my ear.

I gasped, my body arching into him. He hadn’t even touched anything beneath my dress and I was already soaked.

He pressed me back gently until I felt the tree trunk at my spine. Rough bark against my shoulders, cool shade brushing my flushed skin.

Fabian leaned into me, one hand flat against the tree beside my head, his body caging mine in without trapping.

His mouth found the curve of my shoulder, kissing through the fabric of the thin strap.

“So obedient in your little red dress,” he said softly, lips teasing my collarbone. “So wet, I bet.”

I nodded helplessly, breath catching.

He chuckled, low and dark, and his hand finally moved, slowly trailing up my thigh beneath the skirt, knuckles grazing my skin like a secret.

“No panties. Just how I told you.”

His fingers stopped short of where I wanted them most. Teasing. Hovering.

“But you don’t get my fingers yet,” he murmured, pulling his hand back. “You’ll earn them.”

“Please,” I whispered before I could stop myself.

He raised an eyebrow. “Please, what?”

“Please tease me. Touch me. Kiss me everywhere.”

A sharp, approving sound left him. His hand curled around my throat, not tight, just enough to remind me. Of what I was. Of who I was with.

“I’ll take my time,” he said. “You’ll thank me for it.”

He tilted my head and kissed me again, harder now. His free hand slid up my side, over the curve of my waist, palm dragging over the cotton of my dress like he wanted to feel my shape through every layer.

And then, he pinched my nipple lightly through the fabric.

I gasped, body jerking in surprise.

“Sensitive,” he said. “Perfect.”

He kept going, kissing, tasting, murmuring things just for me. He sucked on my neck until I whimpered, palmed both my breasts through the dress, dragging the tension out until I was squirming.

I tried to press my thighs together. He pushed his leg between mine, forcing them apart, and the pressure of his thigh against my bare core nearly broke me.

“I could make you come like this,” he said. “Rub you against my leg until you’re dripping. And I’d still leave you waiting.”

“Please,” I gasped. “I want your hands on me.”

“You’ll get them,” he said. “But first, your mouth.”

He stepped back just enough to undo his fly, slowly, letting his cock spring free. Thick, already hard. My mouth watered at the sight of him.

He didn’t have to ask, I sank to my knees on the blanket, lifting my eyes to his as I reached for him.

But before I could touch, he stopped me.

“Not yet,” he said. “Hands behind your back. Let me enjoy you first.”

I obeyed. And when he stepped forward, sliding the tip of his cock across my lips, I opened without hesitation.

I could still feel the bark against my back, the summer breeze beneath my dress, the rustle of the leaves around us. We were still in public. Still exposed.

And I had never felt more seen.

His cock slid over my lips, warm and heavy, and I opened for him instinctively, wrapping my mouth around the tip, tasting him. He groaned softly above me, and I felt it, his restraint, just like mine, pulling taut like a bowstring.

I flicked my tongue along the underside, teasing him the way I knew he liked, keeping my eyes up, waiting for that flicker of something to snap in him.

But it didn’t.

He gripped a handful of my hair and pulled me off him, slowly, almost tenderly. His cock glistened, twitching in the open air. I started to protest, but his thumb brushed my lower lip.

“Not yet,” he said. “That mouth deserves more than cock right now.”

He stepped back, tucking himself away again without looking away from me. “Lie back on the blanket. Slowly. Keep your dress on. Spread your legs.”

I felt a pulse of heat between my thighs just from the way he said it.

I moved as he asked, back lowering into the soft grass and blanket beneath me. The sun dappled through the canopy above, light and shadow playing across my skin. My dress fell around me like a frame. When I bent my knees and opened for him, the hem slipped higher, baring everything.

I was soaked, obscenely so. And from the look on his face when he knelt between my legs, he saw it.

“Fuck, you’re perfect like this,” Fabian said, his voice low and rough.

He didn’t dive in right away. Of course he didn’t. Instead, he leaned down and kissed the inside of my knee, slow and deliberate. Then again, higher. And again.

By the time his mouth was hovering over my core, I was shaking. He breathed me in, just that, and I almost came.

“You smell like sin,” he murmured, dragging his tongue over my inner thigh, just shy of where I needed it most. “Like heat. Like mine.”

Then finally, finally, his tongue touched me.

I gasped so loud it startled birds from a nearby tree.

He licked one slow, devastating stripe from my entrance to my clit, then circled it with maddening precision. I arched off the blanket, grabbing fistfuls of fabric, not sure if I was trying to ground myself or beg for more.

“Stay open for me,” he murmured. “Let me taste all of it.”

His tongue was relentless. He moved slowly at first, broad, hungry strokes that lapped up every drop of my arousal, but he knew exactly how to build me. His mouth sealed over my clit, his hot tongue flicking faster, then slowing again, just to torture me. My hips lifted. He pinned them down with strong hands.

I was unraveling. Moaning. Whispering nonsense.

“Please.. please, Sir….. I can’t, ”

“Yes, you can,” he said, lifting his mouth for just a second. “You’ll come when I say. Not before.”

The ache was unbearable. The edge was so close I could feel it radiating down my legs, through my fingertips. And all I could do was lie there, spread open in a public park, while this man worshipped me with his mouth like I was his altar.

I had no idea if anyone could see us. In that moment, I didn’t care. I wanted them to. I wanted them to know what it looked like when someone owned me.

He slid a finger into me, then another, and my back arched again, my moan echoing too loud for a public space.

“You're so fucking tight,” he growled, curling his fingers just right. “You want to come, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” I cried. “Please let me. I need to.”

He gave my clit one long suck and then growled against me, “Then come for me. Now.”

And I did.

It hit like lightning. My whole body jerked. My thighs clamped around his head, my vision blurred, and I cried out into the canopy overhead as everything fractured and then came back together, only softer. Sharper. Completely undone.

He didn’t stop right away. He licked me through it, slow and reverent, drawing out every last twitch until I was trembling and breathless.

When he finally rose over me, his mouth glistened and his eyes burned. He kissed me, and I could taste myself on his tongue. It only made me wetter.

I was wrecked, panting, still open for him.

He leaned down, brushing my hair from my face with one gentle hand. “And now,” he murmured, his voice full of promise, “I’m going to fuck you. Hard. Right here.”

I shivered, body still pulsing from the aftershocks.

“Give me everything,” he said.

“I already am,” I whispered. “And I want more.”

As Fabian hovered over me, eyes blazing, breath warm against my cheek, my body still humming from the orgasm he’d just coaxed out of me, a thought cut through the haze of pleasure like a sharp, electric wire:

What if someone saw?