I should probably introduce myself. I am thirty-one and what most people would call retired. I had made a bundle of money during my twenties in the computer game industry before becoming somewhat disillusioned by the industry when I cashed in all my chips and left. I decided to move to the mountains of Western North Carolina, a place that I had visited a few times and thought seemed like a nice spot to get away from the madness of everyday live. I found a little house outside of the town of Murphy and lived off of the interest that my money earned, though I occasionally taught a class at the local college, Tri-County Community College, when they offered a programming or computer game course. Other than that I occupied my time by taking various courses at the school. Currently, I am working my way through the photography classes that they offer. Last semester I took the first class, which taught me more than information about cameras and film than I thought existed. As a result of that class, I learned what type of camera to buy and which film to use. This semester I am going through the second class which focuses on nature photography, a subject that I thought was far simpler than it is.
I am halfway through my semester and have begun to work on my class project, which is to shoot a roll of film focusing on nature in both color and black and white. I have spent the last few days driving around trying to decide which of the many National Forests I wanted to spend the most time in for my pictures. There were several that I liked, however, I settled on a place called Fire's Creek. I suppose many of you may not have heard of this place, let alone seen it, so I will attempt to describe its allure to you. Primarily it is a section of the forest that caters to horse owners and riders which tends to keep many of the average tourists away, creating the sense that you can be there without anybody else being present. In fact, there have been a couple of days where I have not seen a single person or vehicle the whole day I spent in the woods there.
You drive up a gravel road and eventually come to what seems to me to be the main draw of the park. There is a creek, I would assume Fire's Creek, that meanders through most of the park though in one place where it turns, it creates a small swimming hole. At this bend, is a small parking lot where a person or family could park there car and spend the afternoon playing in the creek or cross a small bridge and have a picnic on the tables that are provided. There are also walk paths that lead throughout the park that all begin from this location.
I would like to spend a little more time describing this swimming hole, as that I the primary focus of what happened one day. The creek is probably twenty or thirty feet across at this point and in the center may be as deep as six feet, though I am not certain as I do not appreciate cold water and I'm sure many of you realize how cold a mountain creek can be. On the other side of the creek is a large flat rock that slopes gently down out of the mountains, a creek feeding into the main one runs over and through this rock, That creek, however, is probably now more than an inch or two deep though it is about four feet wide. The sloping rock is nestled on all sides by the mountains and vegetation growing there, creating a somewhat secluded spot from the side though not at all from across the creek. I was kneeling down on a slope across the road and across from the bend in the river listening to the various sound of nature but most noteably the sound of the river. I had already shot two rolls of film, though I did not feel that I had captured in pictures that I felt good about, Taking the class was not about a grade or college credit for me, it was about learning something and pushing myself to be the best that I could. That sounds like a cliché.
I had decided to replace my wide angle lens and try shooting some shots with the telephoto. As the wide angle clicked free of its restraining lock on my Minolta, I heard the tell tale sound of a car kicking up the gravel on the road. I glanced up and saw a white Porsche 911 pull to a stop in the small parking lot. It surprised me how many people lived in this area who had made their money somewhere else and retired to this location, many of them fairly young like I was. The car had North Carolina tags on it and it dropped out of my focus as I fumbled in my bag for the telephoto lens assuming that the driver was probably some health nut who had come to jog the walkways in the park. I noticed the door open out of the corner of my eye, and as I found the lens I glanced back to the parking lot. A pair of the shapeliest legs that I had seen emerged from the car and my photography project was quickly forgotten for the moment. It is somewhat ironic as many people place me a boob man, since I like breasts as much as I do, though I prefer at least C-cups as long as they are natural I had yet to find I pair I thought to be too big. The irony, of course, is the fact that I am an admirer of women, not just breasts. What does that mean?
Well, I like legs, especially those shapely ones that curve in all the right places and have some athletic definition and seem to glisten slightly, whether from sweat or a fresh shave or any other source. The shape of those legs can be further accented by a nice ass. I remember a song that was popular in the eighties where the singer stated "I like big butts and I cannot lie", there are other lines in it though I can only recall those opening statements. Anyway, when I hear that song, I usually think "me too, buddy, bring 'em on" or some other chauvinistic thought. I like long hair, especially brunette though red is nice as well, I believe the only thing I've never really gotten into is blonde. Long hair that is slightly wavy can be such a turn on to me. Along with the hair, I appreciate bangs as they tend to slightly hide the eyes given this sense of coyness or even playfulness. Well, I could go on and on, but I'm sure most of you have gotten the point that I am not merely a breast-man.
The legs that had emerged from the car were slightly tanned and disappeared into a pair of faded white tennis shoes without socks, which I thought was kind of strange for a jogger. Slowly the rest of her emerged and she was quite a knockout, though her butt was a little flat, but every thing else was near to perfection. Her hair was long and slightly wavy with a silky brown sheen and a tint of red throughout. Her breasts were large and seemed to beg for attention from beneath the long white T-shirt that she wore. I would guess she was probably about five foot four or a little taller and probably in the neighborhood of a hundred fifty pounds. Some guys might call that big, or make fun of her being a linebacker, me, I call that about perfect. I don't like Barbie dolls and prefer my women to have curves and the ability to withstand a hard, well that's probably not too important.
