I couldn't believe how stupid this was. I mean, it was one thing to make us write a paper on native languages and cultures, but to make us drive together to this stupid Indian reservation? At least we could roam free in the Indian village once we arrived. We had to walk three miles from the nearest town just to get to the damn camp! It wasn't so bad, though: The scenery was amazing once you got into the fields past the camp (I decided to explore the picturesque surroundings instead of studying the filthy camp), and I brought a large flask of Jack Daniels on the trip. I took another sip of it as I topped yet another hill past the camp. The grass was waist high and the sun was hot and annoying as hell, so I rejoiced when I saw a small stream with large trees thick on both sides of it, winding its way through the fields and hills. I took off at an easy trot toward it, unsteady from the alcohol, but clear minded and intent on getting some cool shade.
I made it to the cover of the trees in no time, and my sweating body rejoiced as I stopped to catch my breath. I couldn't see the stream, but I could see the gradual slope of damp earth and sparse grass leading down to it. I walked with the slope for a while, looking up at the tree tops high above me, marveling at the almost nonexistent amount of undergrowth in the woods. The cooler environment allowed me to feel the warm, tingling sensation collecting in my groin, and I felt my cock grow flaccid. I also had a strange urge to feel the cool dirt under my feet and damp air on my chest. It wasn't a genius inspiration, then, that led to the removal of my clothes down to my boxer-briefs, and I left my attire behind. I kept my flask with me as I walked on, and drank every now and then to keep the warm feeling in my nuts. The ground grew wetter under my toes, and I saw the floor of the forest slope down at a more rapid pace once past the next giant sycamore tree. I was close to the water. I had kept my underwear on to offer support to my balls, but the friction of the cotton on my cockhead was making me hard, so I took my underwear off. I threw them off to the side in the leaves, knowing I could drive back to my apartment in my jeans, and took the following pause to further appreciate my body.
I'm a pretty average guy: six feet tall with sandy blond hair that gets brown at the roots and is brown on my body. I wear a size eleven shoe, but my hand are huge with big palms and long, thin fingers to match. My eyes are a plain hazel, but I'd like to think they're more green than anything else. I'm almost the most average guy ever. Well, until you look at my genitalia. My cock is a full five inches limp, and it grows to a monster of a member at ten and a half inches erect. The head is huge and deep purple, topping my smooth shaft like a crown on a king. My manhood is big enough hard that it can't quite stick straight out, but has to point at a downward angle to the ground. It has a slight curve to the right, but I chalk that up to excessive masturbation. All in all, I love it, even though jeans can be uncomfortable to wear, and my hard-ons tend to be obvious in anything but jeans. My nuts are a good size too: slightly bigger than golf balls and hanging low in my sac. I keep my pubes shaved to add another dimension of size to my penis, but I won't touch a razor to my balls so they stay covered in fuzz.
I resumed my slow walk again, cock swinging way out at a good seven inches, and I stopped beside the big sycamore at the top of the river bank. I could finally see the water below me, running swift and clear between its packed dirt banks. It was shallow enough that I probably could have walked across it without sinking below my nipples, but I was cool enough now that I didn't want to get into colder water. I finished the remains of liquor in my flask, enjoying the new warmth in my torso, and tossed it down by the stream. Then I continued my walk, enjoying my buzzed freedom, cock waving with each step.
I was a little unsteady on my feet, so I found it easier to walk on the shallower slope at the top of the bank in the trees than it was to walk on the steeper, slicker ground by the water. I moved at a steady pace, weaving between the trees and feeling the air on my body and the grass beneath my feet. The river wove as well, making long, sweeping curves in the land, and making for a new visual experience around each bend. I lost track of time as I walked, concentrating on listening to the birds and watching whatever animals came my way. The warm feeling in my body dulled slightly with time, and the cool air rolling off the water reduced my cock back down to its normal five inches, if not less. This made for easier waking, and I made better time. I couldn't help but think I must be getting close to the rear of the Indian village, for I left the camp headed northwest, and then turned and followed the river back east. I thought about this for a while, wondering if I should go back for my clothes, when I rounded a sharper bend to the right and saw her.
The first thing I noticed before gender or race or anything—the first thing that registered in my mind—was ass. Naked ass. Then I noticed the hourglass shape of a woman's form, and the dark-skinned complexion coupled with that unmistakable red hue of a native. These two observations alone were enough to make me slip behind a tree and look closer. I jumped quickly behind the nearest trunk and, once hidden, peered out at the miracle of womanhood before me. I could see as I ogled that she was bathing in the cool water of the stream, and I realized this must be the washing spot for the Indian village. She lifted her arms above her and squeezed water out of a piece of cloth onto her head periodically. I watched her rub some sort of soap on her shoulders and arms, and one time it certainly appeared like she was vigorously soaping her tits. She brought her hands up directly in front of her body and moved both hands in a circular motion, rubbing her womanly mounds clean. At first I was merely curious, but I took an active interest when she leaned forward to rinse off. She bent almost double at the waist so she could wash off her tits and shoulders, and all I could see was the tightest ass in the world and two puffy red pussy lips poking out from between her thighs. I had to get a closer, frontal view.
I moved quietly from tree to tree, slowly working around the rest of the bend in the river. I kept an eye on her moving naked form at all times, just in case she should turn suddenly, and I marveled at her long black hair and dark skin. Something about that red tint turned me on, and it made me wonder if it made her pussy pinker. The sun still beamed down in full force, bathing her nude form in broken light through the trees. It had a great effect on my Indian fantasy's skin, giving her a dappled pattern on her smooth tan. My cock had started growing as soon as I saw that ass, and the more I saw of her, the more it grew. I swear it grew two inches at once when I saw those pussy lips. It was out at a thick eight inches, and hanging away in front of my nuts by the time I got even with her right arm and shoulder and could examine her tits.
To say I was disappointed isn't quite true, but I wasn't overjoyed with what I saw. I had stopped and peered out from behind a tree, desperate for a look at her chest, and there wasn't much to see. Her boobs were small for her size, but very perky on her 5' 9"-ish frame, and just as tan as the rest of her, proving she wasn't a fan of covering up in the sun. Her nipples stuck out of her tits, their brown surface puckered in arousal from her previous administrations and the cold water. They pointed out and slightly up for at least an inch, perfectly topping her small mounds.
