This is my entry for the 2015 Literotica Nude Day Story contest. I tried to squeeze it into three pages but it bulged over onto a fourth, so my apologies in advance to any readers who find four pages too long. For those who do make it all the way to the end, I hope you enjoy the story!
All characters involved in sexual situations are eighteen years of age or older.
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Her body floated beneath the surface, waiting for him. He moved the candle closer and let its light spill across her lifeless form. He didn't want to miss a single detail.
His gaze slid across her swollen belly as the taper's glow flickered against his cold gray eyes, turning them the same silver hue as the small, sharp tools clutched in his hands. He touched her delicately, not wanting to damage her. She spun slowly toward him and the lambent flame turned her gossamer wings golden.
Will's eyes flashed as he dove into the taped-together shoebox beside him, keeping one eye on the female caddisfly floating in the small glass container as he pulled out the materials necessary for his work: hackle, thread, dubbing, a size twelve hook and straw-blonde bull elk hair for the wings.
His bobbin twisted and his scissors snipped and when he was done he proudly eyed his creation, a perfect simulacrum of the lifeless
Trichoptera
suspended in front of him. Yesterday, she'd plunged beneath the lake's surface and drowned. Today she lived again.
A skillfully executed improved clinch knot secured the newly-tied fly to his tippet and Will grabbed his fly fishing rod, blew out the candle and stepped out of his camper into the pre-dawn darkness.
Sunrise was only minutes away. The chill of night still hung heavy in the air and a thick fog blanketed the lake. He turned toward the water but had barely taken three steps when he stopped.
A monstrous shadow loomed in the darkness at the water's edge; a car, rising like a phantom from the mist.
Will blinked in surprise. He hadn't heard anyone drive in during the night. In fact, he hadn't seen a single soul in seven days spent at the lake. Based on what he'd been told this was hardly unusual and was the exact reason he'd chosen this remote, lonely place.
But there it was, less than fifty feet away. He could only see its silhouette but knew it was one of those landyachts from the early seventies, a ghost from a time before the oil embargo hit, waiting at the edge of the lake like a beacon from the past.
The car appeared black in the darkness and wispy strands of fog snaked beneath its dark belly like pale tentacles. But a soft, rising halo above the dark, thickly-forested mountains lining the eastern horizon announced the approaching sunrise and dispelled the shadows cloaking the car.
The mist also retreated before the encroaching rays and in the weak blue light of dawn Will finally recognized the make of the car, a Plymouth Fury. His grandfather had owned one similar to it, but that had been decades ago.
The car was huge and parked less than twenty feet from the water's edge. There were no tents nearby and Will could only assume whoever had driven it there was sleeping inside.
He shook his head, amazed they'd found their way safely through the woods in the dark. Even in daylight the forest road leading to the lake was dangerous and there was one turn near the end that was particularly treacherous. He'd been warned about it and had still nearly driven over the edge, more than a thirty-foot drop to the water's surface and who knew how deep below.
Will crept closer, hoping to peek inside the dark windows. Something crunched underneath his foot. A beer can. In the growing light he spotted more and more of them littered around the car.
Partiers, he should have guessed. Probably teens from the town he'd driven through on his way up to the lake. He was surprised he hadn't heard them.
Something shifted inside the car. Will rose up on the toes of his boots, trying to see if anyone was in the front seat, and as he squinted, struggling to see in the dim light, he felt his initial sense of surprise slowly give way to resentment.
The lake was huge. Why had they parked so close to his camper? Couldn't they have driven farther down shore? Didn't they know the rules? He was already in a sour mood after failing to catch a trout in the entire week he'd been there and the prospect of now having to share the lake only made his mood worse.
Determined to ignore the car, he turned back toward the water. He knew there were trout in there, he'd seen them jumping. But every trick he'd tried so far -- including matching the hatch -- had failed.
Will crept toward the water's edge and waded in as quietly as he could, letting out his line and lazily looping it back and forth as he savored the stillness of the forest around him.
He loved waking up in the wild, loved hearing a whiskey jack's early morning call echo across the water as an insect hummed past and a trout splashed in the distance. No sounds of civilization, no sounds of anything but him and his lake.
He flicked his line toward the center, letting his Elk Hair Caddis fly settle on the surface like its namesake. As he waited for a tell-tale strike he couldn't help glancing toward the car, the last vestiges of the ghostly mist that had blanketed it still crouching in the shadows beneath it.
The sun finally rose and its rays glided across the shimmering surface of the lake until they found the Fury, shooing away the remaining shadows and mist and turning the chrome-covered classic golden.
Will held up his hand to shield his eyes as the blinding beams bounced off the car's polished curves and stabbed at his corneas as if commanding him to look away. The vehicle that had seemed so menacing in the dark was now like a vision, dressed in a coat of lustrous metallic gold paint and trimmed in silvery chrome.
Someone shifted inside the car again and he heard a bump and a curse as they banged against the side door. Then he heard a second voice, the murmur of their unintelligible conversation carrying through the thick metal and glass and across the quiet of the clearing.
The front passenger door groaned as it swung open and the first of the car's occupants stumbled out, a twentyish female with tousled honey-blonde hair, bare legs and an oversized plain white tee.
She stepped sleepily from the car, swung the door closed, scratched her bum and turned to face the rising sun. Lifting her arms above her head, she yawned and mumbled, "How long have I been asleep?"
Will wasn't sure if she was talking to herself, him or her friends, but as she arched her back and stretched her hands toward the blue sky above he couldn't help noticing how her shirt slid up to reveal the pale pink panties hidden underneath.
Her eyes were closed, the sun's warmth caressing her face, and as she spun slowly toward him the lambent light turned her tangled hair golden. She opened her eyes and seemed surprised to see him. Lowering her arms to let her shirt fall back into place, she gave him a friendly smile and a sleepy wave. "Morning."
"Morning," Will mumbled back.
He turned away and tried to concentrate on his line as he reeled it in, tried not to think about those bare legs or those pink panties. But he couldn't help stealing another glance and was surprised to see her coming toward him, a dreamy smile on her face as she shook the sleep from her sun-kissed hair.
"Any luck?" she said, her eyes on his fly as she padded across the grassy shore toward him.
Will shook his head as he flicked his rod back and forth, letting his line out and then shooting his fly across the lake again.
She watched it settle gracefully on the surface. "I hope we didn't make too much noise when we arrived last night. We tried to be quiet. I was kind of surprised to see someone else was here."
