It's hot and humid today. Maybe too hot and humid. Maybe that's why I've been running on this trail for half an hour and haven't seen a hint of a single soul. Or maybe that's because this is the root-filled, poorly-maintained hilly trail that meanders through the trees and brush instead of the nice one that goes starkly the opposite way along the side of the river.
This trail has its benefits though, besides solitude. There's a cutaway shortly ahead, not much more than a game trail, that leads through something of a thicket and off to a secluded little corner of a feeder creek for that big river. Between the shade and the water running over the rocks, even on a day like today it'll be an ideal place to cool off with a bit of a stretch break.
I pass quickly along the trail, slipping out of the thick branches into the narrow bank to find you.
You're softly curled over a book, under the young willow at the creek bend. Your light dress clearly chosen to meet the day's weather, you glance up from under loose auburn waves as I spill out. The Sun Also Rises is the last detail I note before my eyes land between your parted knees, at the thin strip cotton bared unashamedly at the empty woods a moment before, and now directed at me.
"Hello!" You smile and I try to discern if that's the smile of someone who's just caught me with my eyes in the honey pot, at it were, but your smile gives nothing away, and your knees remain unashamed.
But you did catch my glance, and that second one too as I stepped closer. But between my slightly ragged breath and the sheen of sweat on my lightly toned body, you feel less threatened than intrigued, and elect not to give away your observations.
"Hey, nice spot for some Hemingway." I nod at your book as I cross an arm against my chest, feeling the stretch in my shoulders.
"Oh, I figured I ought to read it eventually," You slip a finger between the pages and wrap your hands and the book comfortably around your knees, pulling back gently, casually, innocently toward your chest.
"It's got some redeemable qualities." I swallow, trying to stare directly at the very evident little shape of your slit curving its way up the centerline of your tight-fitting thin cotton without looking at it at all. I switch arms.
Distracted by you, I don't even notice that you do. "We should all aspire to that much, I suppose." You grin and I chuckle.
"Didn't expect to find anyone here." I nod at the creek.
"Ya," You glance at the trail head and scratch absently at your thigh, your fingers just barely grazing the edge of your panties, the fabric shifting slightly. "It's pretty empty here, usually, especially on a day like today." You head still turned away, as if you imagine I'm not looking at you either, you run a finger under the edge, casually tugging at the cotton like some unconscious itch.
I lean forward, suddenly regretting my rather snug running shorts, trying to disguise myself in stretching my legs and barely prying my eyes away as I bend over double.
You best me once again, deftly spying exactly the response you'd wanted while I somehow imagine my ruse has been entirely successful. "Run here often?"
"I like the hills, a bit of interval training, you know?" Feeling like I've got the situation in my shorts under control, I glance up to find you've joined my stretch, standing in front of me, head craned up to meet my glance.
Dress effortlessly gaping away from your evidently braless chest.
"Sitting all morning, nice to get up and stretch, you know?" You just smile as my much too snug shorts are one again even more snug.
"No, ya, that, makes sense." I can't pull my eyes from your perky pink nipples. You reach your arm down one leg, then the other, your firm breasts swaying gently as you bob.
"Really worried about those hamstrings, huh?"
Oh shit, I haven't moved, and fear I have most certainly been caught. I pull up slowly, reaching for an exculpatory retort.
"Oh, shit!" Your book tumbles and you spin, your backside inadvertantly bumping against me as you bend over double, shuffling through the pages for your lost place.
"Um, no bookmark?" I manage, trying to ignore the soft flesh pressing against my hard cock, taking a polite step back.
"No, I was kinda aiming to read it straight through..." You stand upright, the motion pressing you right back into me, and your cute little butt right back into my very eager cock. "Here we go!" You turn and smile. "Oh, sorry, didn't mean to bump into you there..." You pat my chest and step away, landing softly back under the willow, knees again as wide as your sweet smile.
There's no hiding it now. I am quite evidently simply rock hard, standing here with your soft lips outlined by the play of shadows across the cotton between your thighs. But you manage to pull off that air of innocence that makes me wonder if I imagined it all, if it was really just a series of remarkable coincidences, if you somehow miraculously haven't noticed the stiffness prominently outlined in my running shorts, the very stiffness only moments ago pressing against your own softness.
"Is this your turn around point?" You offer up to me, your finger once again between the pages as your hands grip your knees. You pull casually toward your chest, as though spreading your thighs taut was obviously the most comfortable way to sit.
"Um, no, I've got another mile or two, then I'll be back this way." I swallow and nod, taking the hint and turning toward the trail head.
"I can't wait!" You grin, drawing open your book, and letting your eyes slip into the pages as I step away.
---
"You're back!" You're sitting considerably more chaste this time as I lumber out of the bushes. I fail entirely to hide my disappointment at seeing your legs tucked to the side under you. "That seemed fast?
"Uh, it was a good run." I nod, feeling suddenly conscious of my sweat.
"Looks like it!" You close your book, waggling it at me, "Found a bookmark." You set it down, carefully staging just enough for me to see exactly what manner of bookmark you've found, and pull your knees up, still together. I suddenly very much worry you did notice before, and that I overstepped.
"How's the book?" I offer, crossing an arm against my chest again. I probably don't really need to stretch again, but, a good enough excuse to stay and chat.
"Oh, good, good." You rock your knees side to side and I glimpse entirely too much skin to not also see panties.
I look over at your book. Your bookmark dangles loosely out the top. White. Cotton.
You notice I've noticed. "Hemingway can be a bit like interval training, too, sometimes." You mock seriousness.
"He does have a way of getting heavier in places..." I switch arms, unable to possibly imagine you've done what I think you've done while you, meanwhile, are weighing some options.
"A good time for a bit of a strech, too." You pull up and I get hesitating confirmation, a fleeting view of smooth-shaven skin, the possibility of a bare slit. But it's gone before I can register whether I even really saw anything at all.
You stand, reaching up in a stretch, your dress rising just above the knee, much too long and too opaque to give away anything underneath, or the absence thereof. But there is certainly a distinct lack of the outline of anything on the soft curve of your hips.
"So, are you particularly a Hemingway fan, or just working your way through the canon of western literature?" I finally pull my eyes away from your bottom half enough to notice you've undone a few buttons down the front of your dress, the loose edges folding down and baring an almost unreasonable degree of the shape of your breasts.
"Ummm..." You swing your arms straight back, pressing your chest out. My heart stops as the fabric draws tightly down your breasts, a hint of pink peering out over the edge of the fold. "More the second, I guess?" You frown, I imagine in introspection, but mostly it's because when you tested this stretch earlier, they popped free entirely.
"Any russian literature on your reading list?" I shift to something of an awkward stretch, hoping you'll follow suit, my hands pressing up along my back as far as they'll go. You jump at the idea.
"I was thinking maybe Anna Karenina?" You push your arms up your back, and I watch as both your stiff, pink nipples slide gently further into view. But, to both our disappointment, it's not quite enough to slip your breasts free entirely. Frustrated, you grasp at the back of your dress, tugging at the fabric, and they finally pop loose.
Bouyed by your dress, your breasts are positively incredible. Small enough to grip, large enough to tease, with a sensuous curve I ache to kiss. Your nipples, I presume stiff from the air but you know to be from your own arousal, beg for attention.
"Whoops!" Your face flashes your best imitation of an embarrased smile as you fail entirely to rush to tuck yourself back in. "Sorry, it was a little warm, didn't expect those to pop out..." You can't help but press your nipple between your knuckles as you grasp your breast, and I could swear I catch a flicker of pleasure in your eyes as you do.
"It's definitely a hot one..." I manage, pathetically.
You snicker. "Ya, I mean, look at you!" You run your fingers down my arm, mocking a grimace at the slick skin. "You should take full advantage of the creek!" You half-joke, cocking your feel apart and reaching down a leg. Your open dress top falls away, once again revealing your gorgeous breasts.
I plop down onto the ground into a butterfly stretch to get a better view. You stiffle a snicker at my obviousness, innocuously twisting slightly to angle yourself toward me. "You read anything good lately?" You smile up at me as I stare down your dress.
"You know, I haven't?" I shrug, leaning into my legs, craning my neck, much to your amusement. "It seems like there's never enough time."
"You have to make time." You say, pulling yourself up quickly enough that your breasts jostle. You scan the ground behind you. "I made today happen because I wanted today to happen." You say, lowering yourself down in front of me, your knees too tight for me to see through them once again. You lick your lips, and look earnestly at me. "You know what I mean?"
I catch your eyes and pause, nodding. "Every day is all you've got."
You beam. "Yes. It is, isn't it?" You split your knees into a butterfly, your smooth pussy bared entirely in an instant, parting slightly between your thighs as you lean toward me into the stretch, conscious not to block my view, up your dress or down it.
