June, 1962
George Sarin breathed a sigh of relief as he walked the wooded path to his favorite fishing cove. He loved his family and usually enjoyed their camping trips at the lake, but he always looked forward to the naps his wife and young son took after lunch. It was unlikely he would catch anything this late in the day, he knew, but the tranquil moments alone were all he wanted anyway.
As he neared the cove George caught a flash of movement through the trees and heard a splash. His shoulders tensed as he envisioned a group of kids swimming in his favorite spot. That would be just his luck -- a bunch of loud teenagers ruining the hour or so of peace before his family woke and demanded his attention. Around the cove the trees grew right up to the edge of the water so it wasn't until he stepped out onto the roots of an old oak that he saw the lone woman.
She appeared to be standing up to her waist in the middle of the cove, languidly brushing her wet hair back from her face. It was immediately obvious from his angle that she was nude, as her ample breasts stood out prominently from her chest and, even from where he was, he could see the dark protuberances of her nipples contrasting with her pale flesh. Before he could stir himself to turn away she glanced over and smiled.
Do you like what you see?
George opened his mouth to answer with a resounding "Yes!" before he bit his tongue and felt his face flush with embarrassment and just a little anger.
It's not my fault you're skinny-dipping in a public lake!
Still, he pulled his eyes away politely as she began wading towards him.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know..." he began.
It was only then that it sunk in that the woman's lips hadn't moved when she spoke. And he was almost certain that the water was at least 20 feet deep in the center of the cove, tapering to a rocky six feet or more where the water lapped against the tree roots.
How...?
He glanced up to see that the woman had moved to within a yard or so of where he stood and that now all but her knees on down rose bare above the water. His confusion as to the depth of the cove vanished as his eyes instinctively snapped to the wet downy triangle between her legs. Whether from the dampness or from some sort of tinting, her pubic hair had a translucent sparkle that was no color and all colors at once, and the way it clung to her sex left almost nothing to the imagination.
George found it mesmerizing.
He knew he was being rude in the extreme and his neck hurt from the effort to lift his head to look her in the eye. Finally he heard a low, amused chuckle.
Were you spying on me, George?
The use of his name shocked him enough to break his stare. He tried to formulate a plausible denial and drag his eyes up to her face where they belonged, but found himself frozen again at the sight of her bare breasts staring back at him. The dark brown areolas took up fully half of her breasts and the nipples were exceedingly long, noticeably erect and glistening from the cold water. The effect reminded him of when his wife Linda was three months pregnant and her breasts had swollen and her areolas had enlarged to the size of sand dollars. Her hormones were making her "crazy for sex" as she said and he fondly remembered the constant intimate attention she demanded of him. It certainly wasn't anything like that now, of course, but he would never forget the hours of lounging in bed, nuzzling and licking her sensitive breasts, once even to a loud orgasm. They had grown so much in fact that he had experimented and discovered the meaning of the term "titty-fuck," something he had thoroughly enjoyed but which she quickly put a stop to once the baby came.
Are you like this with all women, George?
There was a playful tone to her question, but George immediately remembered his situation and snapped his eyes to hers. He was mortified at his behavior and at a loss to explain it, but as he felt himself sink into the depths of those dark green orbs, any embarrassment quickly washed away, to be replaced by an arousal more profound than he could ever explain. The promise in those eyes drove his body to respond faster than he even remembered from his teenage years. Already excited from her nudity, he felt his blood pumping to his groin, leaving the rest of his body weak and a painful erection literally popping out from the top of his pants.
The woman smiled knowingly at him with a maturity and savvy that was both sensual and intimidating. It was as if she knew him to the depths of his being and could choose to gratify his most secret desires or exploit his most terrifying fears. George found the unaccustomed vulnerability made him want to both weep and give himself to this woman in any way she demanded.
The woman stepped closer and reached for him, obviously expecting no resistance.
You are George Sarin.
"Yes," he found himself answering. For a moment he recovered a bit of himself and pulled away, asking "But ... how do you know my name?"
You own the factory ... "upstream."
She seemed to have a hard time conveying the word to him.
She reached again and this time her fingers touched the button at the top of the zipper and he felt an electric thrill in his penis, even through the material. Still, he managed to pull back a few inches again, eliciting a slight frown from the woman that made his chest constrict and raised the hair on the back of his neck.
Almost hoping he was right, he heard himself ask, "You're not one of those hippy demonstrators, are you?" He looked around to see if there were others nearby, waiting for this gorgeous nude woman to distract him while they played out some vengeful game. The suspicious anger he felt seemed to clear his head momentarily from the hormone-driven spell he was experiencing. He'd been having a lot of problems with the protestors lately -- one of the reasons he slipped away on this camping trip for the weekend. They claimed his factory was somehow poisoning the river but of course had absolutely no evidence; they certainly had no answer to the fact that his company helped employ over half the town.
Does it matter?
She curved her lips upward again and stepped closer, reaching for his wrist this time. He noticed now that there were strange veins of green and red running through her skin, making her seem somehow sickly despite her robust beauty. A moment later though, a powerful fragrance reached his senses and he nearly fainted from desire. It was as if every smell he had ever associated with pretty girls, happy times and, most importantly, sex, suddenly combined to waft from this woman's body. Added to the fact that her every curve and grotto exuded a ripe sensuality, George felt the rest of his consciousness quickly shutting down as it gave over to a profound and overwhelming lust.
He realized distantly that she was pulling him down to sit on the roots of the oak, but now he couldn't pull his eyes from hers. He could only stare as he heard the zip of his pants and felt her slide them and his boxers down and off with one surprisingly strong pull. His cock sprang free and, strangely enough, he felt no embarrassment at all as she reached for it. The mere touch of her soft yet insistently skillful fingers thrilled every nerve in his body and easily surpassed even the most pleasurable moments he had ever spent with his wife Linda.
I've been waiting for you.
