Sweet warm spring air blew through the open window as I drove in Rural North Carolina. Everywhere flowers, trees, and shrubs were in bloom, the air smelled so sweet that I almost hyperventilated smelling it. Close by I glimpsed the river I was trying to get to, but "No Trespassing" signs had me stopped. I'd been trying to get down to the river for almost an hour and I was feeling frustrated. Ahead I saw a figure by the road. It was a lonely back road, and I was relieved to see it was a woman.
I pulled up and greeted her as she stood taking her mail from the roadside mailbox. I told her I was trying to get down to the river. As she came over, I was impressed. Tall and lovely, she had on jeans and a chambray shirt that was very well filled. Her jeans fit loose and were obviously work worn. No stone washed designer jeans for this gal. When she moved to the side of my four-wheel vehicle, which sits high, she was looking me straight in the eye. I guessed her to be a little over six feet tall.
My eyes moved down to her ample bosom. The top two buttons were undone, showing deep cleavage and the edge of a frilly and obviously expensive bra. She caught me looking and smiled warmly. She had a lovely face, almost classic, and deep blue sparkling eyes. Her face and personality were those of someone who makes you smile and think you'd like to know them better. Little did I know how well I would get to know her.
"You're Olivia G___ ", she said with a sudden start, her face lighting up with a glowing smile. I was flattered by her instant recognition. I'm a professional photographer specializing in birds - ornithology. I've had four books published, and many magazine articles printed all over the world.
"You have to come in. I just made some 'scratch' old fashioned tea cookies and have some real lemonade, fresh squeezed." She introduced herself as Gloria. As we talked, her eyes moved down. Since it was so warm, I'd left the top buttons of my blouse open, and braless, she could see my breast, bare to the tip.
It had been a long time since I'd made love to another woman. I enjoy a stiff cock, but have always loved women's softness and gentleness. I felt my nipple stiffen. I moved my shoulder slightly, making the blouse gap open still more, giving her more of a view. Her eyes stayed on my erect nipple.
I drove into the yard and she led me into a beautiful older home, well kept, and 'homey' inside. The whole house was beautifully furnished in warm colors. I felt completely at ease. We were soon chatting like old friends as I ate her delicious, still hot, slightly chewy cookies and drink ice-cold tangy lemonade. She brought out three of my books and I autographed them for her. They were well read and had slips of paper inside with notes on some of the birds. I noticed that since we'd first met, another button of her blouse had been unbuttoned, exposing still more of her deep cleavage and creamy breasts. I was sure it wasn't an accident. I enjoyed the view. The way she sat and moved displayed her breasts for my eyes.
I definitely got the impression that this was a sexual display. I have to be very discrete and careful. I've never been blackmailed and have to carefully choose my friends. However, I only had a good impression of Gloria.
Gloria told me I'd be welcome to camp by the river as long as I liked. Refreshed and a little aroused, I drove down to the river, past a red barn and well kept out buildings. Sleek well-fed cattle grazed in lush green fields. Presently I came to the lovely clearing and the outcropping of rocks she'd described. The rocks had a flow of water running into a clear pool. She'd told me I could bathe in the pool, but if I wanted drinking water, to use the pipe that came out of the side of the rocks. I knew that drinking from even the most beautiful spring could lead to diseases carried by the animals and birds, which drink and defecate in it.
I set up camp, unloaded my canoe and carried it to the river. I started the small engine, a marvel of modern engineering. Only twenty pounds, it is a steam engine, fueled by propane gas. I moved out into the river, reconnoitering the area. The small engine hummed so softly it's inaudible beyond ten feet. My feet fit into two stirrups that control the speed, direction, and forward and reverse. When you're photographing with long lenses, you don't have a third hand to steer with.
I found nests exactly where Gloria had directed me. I was here to photograph the stately great white cranes. Moving up the river, ghosting along, I found another nest and saw the female carefully placing sticks in the nest. Muskrats swam by, an occasional turtle, and a water snake. I glimpsed several deer in the virgin timber. I almost expected to meet a birchbark canoe paddled by loin clothed Indians.
I cooked dinner and was sorting my photo gear for an early start when Gloria rode up on a magnificent white mare. She rode bareback and sat as if she'd been doing it all her life. She'd brought a big slice of fresh baked pecan pie. She insisted I continue, and as she watched, asked an occasional question about my equipment, what I used, and why. She was sharp and bright. I found myself drawn to this tall buxom, intelligent woman. This time she didn't wear a bra and her full breasts swayed enticingly. A couple of buttons were again undone and I stole long glimpses of her full invitingly white breasts. The nipples tented the material. I wanted to reach out and cup the full mounds but knew I could be wrong. I wasn't sure her "invitation" wasn't due to naivete.
Gloria, I learned, was a widow, her husband a Viet Nam casualty. She'd lived on a farm all her life, and now made a good living raising purebred cattle. I finished the delicious pie. She knew I had to get up early, and she said she'd see me the next day. She swung up on the horse easily and rode off into the darkness. I thought about her as I drifted off to sleep.
I awoke while it was still dark, ate a filling breakfast and was in position on the river before first light. I had outfitted the canoe with camouflage netting and added long river grasses to it so I appeared a floating brush pile. The cranes on their perches showed up beautifully in the wonderful dawn light. I knew I had some photos worth printing. When they flew off the nest to go feed, I was ready and the motor drive whirred as I caught their long graceful wings curving up and down as they flew, pure white against the dark green forest. I knew I had some superb photos.
I pulled my canoe well up the bank and made my way back to camp, my spirits soaring. Stepping into the clearing, I stopped short. Gloria was in the pool, gloriously nude, bathing. She'd soaped her hair and stood under the small waterfall, a vision of beauty. I marveled at her lush full figure. Her full rounded breasts swayed alluringly as she moved. Her nipples were erect, long and jutting. My mouth watered. Her areolas were the largest I'd ever seen, almost palm sized. Her full breasts would make any stripper green with envy, they lay deep and low slung, gleaming with drops of water. I didn't think she wasn't here by accident.
She turned toward me and I caught my breath. Her pussy was bare, revealing a prominent rounded mount of Venus with a deep cleft. She hadn't seen me, and I continued to watch fascinated as she washed her sex, a finger slipping up and down the deep cleft. I felt my clit swell. I stepped forward and she looked over at me. She didn't move, but smiled at me slowly. Her hand still covered her pussy, one finger still pressed into her cleft.
