Disenchantment and nudity, Part 2
Part 2 - Nudity (Skipped straight here? You dirty, dirty bugger!)

Okay, so formal, coin-op exercise and I had long since parted company but in a fit of weakness I purchased a pair of running shoes and they lay in the corner of the room, box fresh, grating on my conscience. Eventually I snapped and, having just a little bit of trouble bending over to lace them up properly because of my new gut, decided that a jog round the park was in order, just as soon as I had put together a motivational mix for the iPod. Oops, it’s now dark, better have a beer and make a real start tomorrow.

Next day, shoes, socks, shorts, tee shirt, motivational mix loaded and go go go!

My local park is excellent. People use it for running, cycle through it, teens hang out, there’s a bowls club, cricket and footie and all of park civilization. It’s also very pretty, with flower beds, wild flowers, mature trees and proper box hedges. There’s also the occasional park building, used to keep tools, seeds and probably a parkie’s still and porn stash, set back among the hedges.

By the time I’m trotting my lardy sweaty arse round the park, the light is starting to fade. All the fit healthy folk have long since finished their jog and are now sitting looking disconsolately at a salad and wishing they were getting outside of twelve pints of stella and a curry instead.

Anyhoo, I’m trotting along when I notice, on the path up ahead, standing by a hedge, a bloke. Fair enough. Standing next to him is a bloke with a camera. Fair enough, two local photo club saddos, out in the park, farting around with exposure and taking photos of box.

And indeed they were. As I panted past I could see that the thick, almost solid box hedge had a gap, a gateway to a park building; but in the gap and in front of the gate, invisible to all but the photographer, was a woman in an overcoat, drawing it together.

Odd sort of fashion shoot, I thought, as I panted past.

Realisation came at the point in my run when I am furthest from home. It had all the hallmarks of some filthy armature pron shoot from the ‘I like to expose myself in public’ range. Naturally I was disgusted at the thought of the park being used in this way, even more so because I knew there was bugger all chance of getting back there in time to see a real live pron shoot. Worst of all, my imagination went into overtime and I found myself trying to hobble/jog with what can only be described as a tiny meat metronome in my shorts.

Pron shoots, just another benefit of ditching the gym for the great outdoors.

Pictures or it didn’t happen? Just google: nude outdoor female flasher raincoat park and see what images get thrown up. Bloody hundreds, she must be in there somewhere. There are so many it’s a wonder you can throw a bloody Frisbee in a park without hitting some exhibitionist.
(Macnabbs may contain traces of exaggeration on, Tue 14 Jul 2009, 22:06, Reply)