Blue Top

The day was very warm. I sat on a bench shaded by the branch of a tree at the edge of the water. My sketch pad had just a couple of lines for the trees against the far skyline. A few fishermen launched their boats in the quarter of an hour I'd been there. It was a typical, languid midsummer afternoon until a bouncy dog came down the hill behind my bench. It ran up to the water and jumped in.

I heard crunching on the rough path coming down the hill behind me. I turned and saw an incredibly attractive young woman. Quickly my eyes took in her form-fitting jean shorts. They came only a couple of inches down her well-turned legs. Her hair was brown, thick and luxurious, pulled into pony-tail. His skin was honey-brown and glowed with health. She wore a sky blue top with a scooped neck. Her full breasts pushed out firmly against the tight fit of the material. Her stomach was bare from the top of her short-shorts to the bottom of the clingy blue silk. The muscles of her abdomen were visible through the top's thin layer. The top was low enough and her breasts large enough that her clevage was quite enticing.

Although I wanted to stare at her, drinking in every curve of her lovely form, I returned to my sketchpad. Fortunately, she walked right by me to the edge of the lake. Picking up a stick, she tossed it, not far from her dog. I glanced up, without lifting my head. I didn't want her to know I was watching every movement she was making. She moved very gracefully. I imagined she was an athlete. For the next fifteen or twenty minutes, she stood ahead of me on the shore, watching her dog gambol in the water, over the mudflat, to the island where he rousted a deer, swimming in the deeper water, and occasionally back over to his master.

Although she occasionally glanced over at me, I tried to not make her feel that she was under my continual observation. I got to see her from every profile. Her bosom was as awesome as I first thought. Her butt shook nicely when she twisted to throw a branch far for her dog. And it was heavenly when she stooped and bent forward to wet her hands. Her creamy breasts hung tantalizing, revealing to me much white soft upper breast skin.

A canoer launched from near us. She stretched her arms far above her head and wiggled her hands and fingers getting kinks out and showing to us her magnificient form. The canoer paddled off after a good look.

I realized then she might be into exhibiting her body.

"Your dog is getting a lot of exercise," I said in a voice loud enough to be heard across the twenty feet between us.

"Oh, she loves it here. She will romp as long as I let her." She moved a bit closer, looking at me full on. I returned the look to her face, then allowing my eyes to sweep down across her chest and then across her tight jean shorts and finally down her wonderful legs.

She didn't mind the glance at all. Calmly, she turned attention back to her dog. All the while she watched the dog and gazed about the water. She turned her torso. She stretched her back. She walked the shoreline. She bent to splash water. I was given every view possible of her magnificient body clothed as it was in form-fitting and revealing shorts and top.

I gave up pretending to sketch. "I'm not having much luck sketching today."

"Are you an artist?" She asked, interested, drawing closer.

I shook my head. "Just an amateur. I find it relaxing."

We spent several minutes, exchanging such chit-chat. She told me her name, Clarisse. My eyes drank in her loveliness. I don't know what she saw in me, probably just a person to exhibit herself to.

"There's a bridge," she said replying to a comment of mine about places to sketch. "It's very nice."

"Where?" I asked.

She pointed up the shoreline. "Follow the path that way."

"I don't know the way." I ended it as a question.

She smiled. Her teeth were white, especially against her tanned skin. "I could show you."

I had to force myself not to smile to widely. "That would be so kind."

She swiveled her hips towards the water.

I had an unparalleled, close-up view of the weight of her breast resting high above her taut stomach.

"Pussvik," she called, somewhat shyly. The dog was on the far shore, looked up, jumped into the water, and started swimming back.

I cocked my head. "What is your dog's name?"

She blushed a little. "She's a Hungarian pointer. Her name is Pussi, but that sounds funny in English. So I call her Pussvik."

I consider a moment, deciding to take a chance. "I think Pussi comes natural to your lips."

Her mouth opened in astonishment, but then she laughed. "You're wicked, I think."

I smiled then let my eyes rove over her body again, lingering, memorizing the slopes and curves and firm musculature. "Only as wicked as you want me to be." I dared her.

Pussvik came ashore and bounded up to her. She took the opportunity to let our repartee drop. She took her dog through a few fetches. Pussvik shook off water from the swim.

I slipped my little camera from my art bag into my pocket.

Standing I asked, "Where is this charming bridge you told me about?"

At first she didn't answer. She was playing with her dog. In another minute, she turned towards me. "Follow me." She started up the hill behind the bench.

I followed willingly, happily, anxiously. Her ass moved smoothly and visibly under her tight jean shorts. The pumping of her thighs and calves had a wonderful erotic power of their own. I looked up to the sky blue of her top. Her thick brown hair shone in the afternoon sun.

She turned then and smiled. "Keeping up? At the top of the hill, we get on the shore trail."

I nodded. She turned back to scaling the hill. I returned to my delight.

There were a few picnic tables at the top of the hill. A family was at one. A teenage couple at another. Only a few years ago she could have been at that table.

We followed the shore trail. Birds chirping, fish airing, and the creaking wood sounds of a busy forest muffled out any sounds cars make from the road not too far off.

I pulled out my camera and took photos of Clarisse's full body from the rear. A close-up of her legs, her ass, her back, her head. Even one of the lake through the shield of trees.

After a good hike along the shore path, neither one of us talking, Clarisse stopped.

"There it is." She pointed with her right arm. The alluring view of her breast suspended underneath her clinging top drew me eyes before I forced myself to follow her finger.

The bridge was charming. It looked out-of-place. It should have been in a Japanese garden, not fording a two foot wide rivelet with oaks, poplars, and sycamores about it with brush, brambles, and rocks at its base.

"How surprising," I said. "An arch in this watershed. How about you stand on it?" I signaled with my camera.

She smiled. "They built this about five years ago. Do you want me in the middle of the bridge?"

I nodded. "Let's start there."

She posed beautifully. But she couldn't be a model. She was not thin. She was solidly-proportioned, muscled.

After a couple of pictures, I joined her on the bridge. She knew positioning. She moved away. She looked outward, then directly at me, then following the path of Pussvik who gallumphed in the woods. She continued to give me every opportunity to admire her body.

I moved closer to her, placing my hand atop her cool fingers.

"Perhaps Pussvik will roll off my lips," I whispered to her. "Should I call your dog?"

She smiled, turned toward me, and shook her head. She put her fingers under the stomach side of her pale blue top and lifted the gauze-like material up her body revealing her toned body and her full breasts. They were surprisingly white to their peaks where pale reddish aureoles were capped with hardened red nipples.

I reflexively looked around. No one else was visible. I thought that perhaps I could hear voices over the ridge. Clarisse had a strange look on her face when I turned back. I didn't want to do anything to endanger this encounter.

"We never know when someone might come into view." I was rewarded with a sexy look that loved danger. I traced my hands down her cheeks, across her collar bone, and cupped her breasts. They were full-hand sized. I couldn't get the rid of the image of large MacIntosh apples hanging on a tree. They felt delicious. I lowered my hands, crossing her taut stomach, and circling back to her rear. I sucked with my mouth down the path my hands had just travelled. Sneaking a furtive look around the woods, not seeing anyone, I continued and mouthed her breasts, licking, and sucking, reveling in the sweet nectar of her sweat. My hands worked delightedly across the globes of her ass. Gently massaging and trying to feel every pore of her skin through the tight demin material.

"Stand up." She said.

I rose, dragging my fingers across her skin, memorizing every feature of this gorgeous creature, knowing that at some point this would end, and I needed to remember it forever.

She linked her hands behind my neck, pulled me close, and kissed me deeply. My hands and arms rubbed every inch of her back that I could reach, then I started to slip my fingers underneath the back waist of her shorts.

"Wait." She released her hold on my neck and moved back a foot. "First." She reached forward and tugged my t-shirt up over my head. Next she turned her palms forward and pressed through my pants, against my penis. She cupped her fingers around my hardness and stroked me. "Nice." She smiled approvingly. I softly massaged her breasts and upper torso.

She tugged on the snap at my pants. I stuck my hand in my pocket, grabbing the camera. I placed the camera on the railing of the bridge. She unbuckled my pants and pulled them down my legs.

My cock was sticking out the fold of my boxer shorts. Clarisse reached in and stroked both sides of my cock with her soft hands. Then she got on her knees and tugged my boxers down. I hadn't been this excited in years. My erection jutted firm and proud. Sliding her fingers down to my balls, she cupped them, rolling them in her fingers. It occurred to me I must capture this. I picked up the camera. Clarisse was concentrating on my genitals and didn't notice. She had one hand tugging lightly on my scrotum. Her other slid slowly on my shaft. I snapped a picture. She pulled my shaft down, so it was nearly parallel to the ground. She stroked it, moving her hands and fingers the way a Hawaiian hula dancer might if she was making love.

A spot of precum leaked from the tip of my cock. Clarisse took her forefinger and smoothed it across the purple crown of my penis. I clicked another photo. She noticed and looked up. Her beautiful face just a couple inches from my cock. I snapped another. She nodded and returned her attention to my aching cock. Her wet tongue wagging out of her mouth, she leaned forward and licked my heated skin. Perhaps my next photo picked up the glaze from her saliva.

I had wanted her from the first second she came into my view after the bottom of the hill where I sat with my sketchpad. A man could only wait so long, could only be teased so long.

Putting my fingers under her forearms, I lifted lightly. She rose, bringing those magnificient breasts back up where I could give them proper attention.

After a few minutes of delightful tonguing, I reached for the buttons of her jean shorts. She continued to stroke my face, hair, chest, and back. Pulling her zipper down, the top of her black underwear was visible. The shorts were so tight, I had to stand tall and slip my hands flat like a knife under the material. Her skin was very warm to my fingers. I reveled in the feel, but knew greater delights awaited me. I slid my hands around her waist to her bum. I could feel the material of her underwear and bare skin. The feel of so much fresh, nubile flesh was intoxicating. I clenched her glutimous maximus, feeling it ripple beneath my fingers.

Finally pulling my wrists away from Clarisse's wonderful body, I worked her shorts down her legs. Now on my knees, my face was right in front of her panty-covered pussy.

"You can pull them down too."

I did as she said. Still I savored the action and the revelation, perhaps at a pace too slow for her. Finally she stepped up to let the garments fall off her ankles. I ran my hands up the smooth skin that I had been admiring for the last hour. Her calves were firm with strong muscles. Sliding my hands up the front of her thighs was a delight I won't forget for a long time.

She may have shaved all of her pubic hair off before, but now she had a small, very dark patch of short hair above vulva. She stood with her legs nearly together. I slid my hands up the insides of her upper thighs. She moved her legs apart. Her nether lips were red, puffy, and wet. I leaned forward and kissed her thighs. I ducked my head down to her knees and motioned for her to scissor her legs open.

She was a natural. I roamed one hand across her sweet ass, squeezing and tenderly probing. My other hand was stroking her upper leg and sliding near her no longer secret treasure. I licked her lower lips and using my hand, spread her open so I could massage even more of her with my lips.

"Smile," she said. I looked up and she snapped a photo. "You look good with pussy on your lips."

I laughed and stood up. Kissing her deeply, I knew she was tasting her own juices on my lips and tongue. That made me even hotter if possible.

My prick was pressed against her stomach as we kissed. I looked over her shoulder into the woods and saw some figures nearing the top of the ridge.

I picked Clarrise up to align our heights. I turned her and I put her feet on the low railing. She reached around her body and placed my very hard erection at the entrance to her pussy. I released some of my support of her and she slid solidly down. My wet prick entering her athletically tight vagina.

As we fucked, we kissed, yet I kept my eyes open looking at the ridge. She thrust harder than ever. I manuevered us so that her pussy with my cock deep in it were aimed toward the ridge.

She lifted her hips and cunt, almost completely dislodging me. When she sunk back down on it again, I could now see that the approaching figures were the teenage couple from the picnic table. From their posture, I could tell they had spotted us.

Clarisse and I thrust our hips, merging our bodies. I stroked her breasts, massaged the globes of her ass, and tried to touch every inch of her luscious body. I saw the boy raise his arms. He had a camera. After one photo, his girl friend tugged his sleeve and they turned back.

Clarisse hadn't even know they were there and she would be the center of a boy's dreams tonight.

I shot my cum deep into Clarisse. We kept fucking for a couple of minutes after that. Finally I couldn't hold her anymore and set her down.

She took the opportunity to grab my flaccid cock and rub it, swirling the mixture of our juices together. Then she got down on her knees, pulled me to the bridge railing, and sucked my limp cock into her mouth. Her head was above the railing as was my cock. She mouthed it, cleaned it, and sucked it back to life again.

I saw a young man approaching from deeper in the woods. "Clarisse," I said. She looked up and then following my eyes, she saw and nodded.

My last photo showing my jerking cock exploding into her mouth.

I sagged down to the baseboards of the bridge. Clarise stood up pulled her jeans on, sticking her underwear into her pocket. The sky blue top came on last, outlining in clothing the delightful body I had just enjoyed.

She waved back to me when she grabbed the hand of the young man, walking deeper into the woods.