We're going to start off soft . . . and end . . . rough.
***
I waited within the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of her once again. I knew she came to this particular spot in the stream every few days or so. It was right where the lonely tributary made a wicked bend on its way down the mountain and was thus hidden by the tall firs that flanked both banks. There was a large, rocky boulder right in the middle of the stream, looking like it had been sitting there for ages.
And it was to the boulder that she always went, clad in her tight denim shorts, sturdy hiking boots, and whatever top she had chosen for the day.
Man, she was beautiful. Not model-gorgeous with a curvy, svelte figure and perfect cheekbones, and in fact, she was a little on the skinny side, with just a little roominess in her hips and an endearing softness to her belly. But she had luscious brown hair with sun-kissed highlights, firm, if small, breasts, and round, plump cheeks. As much as she apparently loved being outdoors, she did not have much of a tan, just lots of freckles. Freckles had always been a weakness of mine. Perhaps because my first girlfriend had been a redhead.
It had been two weeks since I had first seen her, and that had been by accident. I had recently purchased a cabin on the mountain as a sort of hideaway, to get some writing done in solitude away from the city. When frustration and cabin fever intruded upon my creativity, I took to wandering through the foothills. And that was when I spied her.
Naked and reclining upon the rock in the stream like some modern-day Venus, she was stunning. The sun glowed upon her skin, making it golden, her nipples stiff and dark, the trimmed thatch of light-toned pubic hair wispy and soft.
She did not do anything but lay there that first time, with a small smile on her face, her cheeks and neck a little rosy. She'd had the look of a woman who had just had an orgasm. Then she had dressed and left, never knowing I was there.
The second time was three days later, and this time, I was waiting for her, as I had been every day since. I watched her strip down and masturbate upon the rock. The scene was inspiring, captivating. I went back the following day, and the next, and the next . . . I caught her twice more as she pleasured herself, and the fourth time, I thought she may have seen me, for she sat up suddenly and looked my general way, her fingers still pressed to her pussy. But then she had leaned back and finished what she had begun.
Yet now, four days later, here I was, waiting for her once more. Coming out with the hope of catching my nymph's delicious display of exhibitionism had become a daily routine that consumed two or three hours out of my day. Not that I minded; I always seemed to feel an explosive burst of creativity after watching her. This nameless sprite had become my inspiration, it seemed.
It was well past three o'clock, the time she normally came down along the little path through the trees. I figured she wasn't going to show, so I leaned against the tree I always hid behind and lit a cigarette. I started to head back through the trees when I heard a faint splashing behind me. I looked back . . . .
And there she was. Coming out of the trees at the edge of the stream, same denim shorts, same leather hiking boots, and a loose yellow blouse. Her hair was in pig tails this day, set back high on her head. She was smiling as she always was, tilting her head back to soak up some of the sun. She made her way to the rock, balancing upon stones, keeping her equilibrium by fanning her arms out.
She climbed atop the boulder, facing away from me, and immediately started unbuttoning her blouse. I watched her avidly, my heart beginning to pound in my ears. I think I even held my breath in anticipation of what I was about to see.
The blouse fell to her feet upon the rock, revealing her lean, muscular back. She really did have a sexy back, let me tell you. I loved the way her freckled skin shimmered just so with a light sheen of sweat, the play of muscles under her skin like the movement of sexy serpents. Her hands slid up her body to her breasts, moved back and forth as she massaged them. I found myself licking my lips.
She made the unmistakable motion of unzipping her shorts, and bent slightly at the waist, beginning to slide them down off her hips. But just as the cleft between her cheeks was revealed, she paused, turning her head this way and that, sniffing the air. I saw her face in profile, long school-girl tails of luscious brunette hair swaying beside her face. She frowned, sniffed again.
Oh, shit, I thought, remembering the cigarette I held. I cursed silently, dropped it to the ground, mashing it with my foot. When I glanced up again, perhaps two seconds later, my slender, freckled goddess was facing me, standing with her hands on her hips and head cocked to the side. She had a smirk on her face.
"Watching me?" she asked.
I blushed deeply. "Look, I'm sorry," I said, taking a brave step out from the trees. "But, I mean, come on . . . you're out here in the middle of a stream . . . ."
"Yeah. So?"
I tried not to stare at her upturned breasts.
Damn
. Those nipples looked hard enough to poke through the rock she was standing on.
I fixed her a look. "Didn't you think you might get caught?"
The woman bit her lip. I had always wondered about her age; she could have been anywhere from 25 to 35. No obvious wrinkles, but hers was definitely not a girl's body.
"Of course," she said, her bright hazel eyes glittering. "And now I am."
I took another step, feeling a smile stretching my face. "And, you're not running," I said.
She gave me a cocky look. "Why would I run? You're not gonna attack me, are you?"
My eyes drifted over her nearly-nude body, noting the flaps of denim at the front of her shorts as they angled out toward me. I could just make out the top of her soft bush. "That's not exactly the first thing that came to mind," I said, moving a little closer. We were about fifteen feet apart now.
"And what
was
the first thing that came to mind?" she asked teasingly. Her fingers fluttered along the edges of her shorts, with the tantalizing implication of pushing them down . . . or the threat of zipping up.
I looked up to her face. "Watching you," I said.
Her eyes smoldered slightly. Her right hand slipped inside the 'V' formed by her open shorts, touching and lightly stroking her silky down. "Watching me do what?"
I took another step closer, balancing upon slick rocks. My cock was growing in my shorts, bulging against the material. I noticed the woman's eyes darting down to it. Her lips curled at the effect she was having on me.
"Pretty much just what you're doing now," I answered.
Her eyes darted back to mine. "You mean you wanna watch me play with my pussy," she said.
My cock twitched uncomfortably beneath the khaki fabric as I neared. Less than ten feet between us now. Water flowed over my boots. I swayed slightly on my feet, the rush of water almost making me slip. "Yes," I said.
