When he first saw her he thought she was an illusion. He had run down to the river to play, a fistful of perfectly flat stones balled in his fist, rattling in his hand as he raced through the trees and then stopped short in the mud. Out in the water she was bathing, drawing her elegant arms over her shoulders, running her fingers through her long brown hair. He held his breath, ducking behind a tree trunk to watch.
She turned towards him revealing her perfectly round breasts and pink nipples. He watched with wide eyes as she reached down and her arms pressed her breasts together, pointing her nipples straight at him. Between his legs he felt his member swelling up in response. He swallowed nervously as her hands moved back up to her hair and her breasts bounced back into their normal position. She was moving so elegantly, as if she knew someone was watching. Perhaps she, herself, was the person watching. Perhaps her bathing was her appreciating her own body. He didn't mind joining in the appreciation.