0 comments/ 18920 views/ 1 favorites Girl In A Red Canoe Ch. 1 By: smithpeter I. I camp yearly on the slow moving Keetawnee River. I expect this excursion would be no different. There is much to unpack but I have a lot of time. It's only me for the next 5 days with no weekend partiers making drunken noises in the middle of the night. No traffic noise, no interruption of my reading, writing and photography. The tent is set up. A low fire is started. My red canoe leans against the same pair of cedar trees it leaned against last year and the year before. It's my birthday. Always this same lonely spot, a favorite lonely spot. This is time to relax, open a beer, tend to the fire. I kneel on the ground in front of the fire adding scraps of paper and cardboard to coax it back to life but not feeding too much. I'm startled by a sound behind me. There is a woman standing there. She is slender and attractive. Her khaki shorts end mid thigh. Below them are exposed the most svelte athletic legs. Smooth and muscled. Her athletic shoes look worn. Worn in a way that indicated that their few holes and comfort was from severe breaking-in and hard work. She wore a light flannel shirt with the tail rolled and front gathered up and tied just above her belly button. The sleeves were rolled up to just below her elbows. Her hair was shoulder length light brown that moved slightly in the gentle breeze and rocked a little as she began to speak. "Hi, I'm camped about six sites down and was wondering if you would let me borrow your canoe for a little while? I noticed a Great Blue Heron down by the bend." She tells me her name is Amy. We shake hands. Her grip is firm while feminine. With a brush of her hand she tucks her hair behind her left ear revealing a small copper colored ear cuff clamped to the upper ridge of her left ear. I look closely at the cuff then move my eyes to hers before we let go of our hand shake. She is adorable. Naturally tanned. Her shirt is open all the way down to where it is tied. The sides of small rounded breasts are visible only from a sideways view. She has a healthy smile and sexy brown eyes behind glasses I can only call business-like. She has them perched halfway down her slender Grecian nose. She looks over them more then through as we stand there. My reply was almost instantaneous. "Sure you can." I said. "Do you know how to paddle and stuff?" She giggled her reply, "Yes, I can canoeddle. I've owned two myself and have done some rapids out west with my x-boyfriend back in school." It's about twenty paces to the rivers edge. She hoists the bow end effortlessly. We head to the Keetawnee as I watch her leg muscles work. The canoe is fiberglass,17' long but weighs 70 pounds. She handles her share of the weight with no problem. Her feet are at he edge of the river and she strolls forward, her shoes sinking ankle deep into the green brown muck that is common along most of the bank. The canoe is now almost fully afloat. Only the aft end remains perched on the bank as she places her right foot in the center and lifts her left leg in behind. She removes her slimy shoes at once and dunks them over the side to rinse them off. This gave me a view into her shirt as she bends slightly forward. Amy is a dream come true, a vision of competence and beauty in my red canoe. I offer to get her a couple of beers for her journey up stream. "No thank you," she replies, "I have some wine." She reaches into her pack and pulls out a wine skin which she tips close to her lips. I can see it is red wine. She shoots a stream from the skin into her mouth. I can remember how it feels to have the jet of wine hit against the roof of my mouth then shower down upon the base of my tongue letting enough gather for one swallow. Before I could help her shove off she pushed the handle end of the wooden paddle into the muck freeing her and propelling her into the stream. She flipped the paddle around causing a small trail of river water to arch in the sunlight. The paddle dipped silently into the water on her first stroke. She was off. I told her to take her time. She thanked me with a turn of her head and a smile, the canoe still gliding with the power of her first pull. I watched Amy move capably away. Her stroke was sure and graceful. Once for power, then a dip of the wood for steering. She tipped one more dose of wine before disappearing near the bend behind overhanging, bank rooted cedars. Girl In A Red Canoe Ch. 2 II. The lushness of this spot at this time of summer is my addiction, my fetish. Great rains have driven me from under the camp table tarp to tent. If persistent, to the car. But not this bright and sunny day. Dragonflies arrow towards mating and egg laying. Carp jump randomly out of the Keetawnee. Then splash back with the pride of belly flopping children. Snapping turtles bask on sun warmed rocks. Waders be warned! Amy has been gone almost an hour. I envy her timing. Not all days are this perfect. There is a trail that runs the length of the camp property along the river to a rusty barbed wire fence. Over the fence is rougher terrain. I walk more for quietness than safety. Soon the bow of my canoe is visible on the opposite side. It rocks gently in the slow current. The only sounds are nature. Dribbles of current over rock. Humming insects. An occasional crow squawking its territorial rage. The canoe was adrift. I watched it slowly creep through the shadows cast by overhanging branches. Amy had found a sort of private lagoon. As its position inches into better view I saw something hanging over the side closest to me. A slender naked foot. Amy has reclined onto her back. Only her shoulders and head are visible propped up against the rear seat against the floatation cushion. And yes, both her legs are extended to dangle over the edges on opposite sides from calves down into the water. Her feet dip into the warm river then pull out with no rhythm. I strain to see her breasts. I am foolishly one tracked in this effort. When I raise my position to look down on her better I see not only her perfectly rounded breasts but her smooth belly and arms branching, swaying in pursuit of self satisfaction. Her skin is glistening with a reddish hue. Her movements are fluid but intentional, in a dance of pleasure she did not intend to share. The whole of her slender arms are in full view. The soft undersides of her arms do not rub against her form merely as a means to reach her parted thighs but also nudge against her erect nipples, the sides of her breasts and down to her wrists that stroke in a slow twisting motion against her clitoris. Watching a woman masturbate is an exceptional delight for any man. I have been privileged only on rare occasion. But even in my own fantasies I have never even considered a woman pleasuring herself with her wrists. I suddenly remembered the muscle of her hand shake and the effortlessness of carrying the canoe to the river. Her wrists, like the hinges of a solid door support her deft hands and fingers in a pursuit that is not yet in my view. Her right hand glided across her red glow. Up her stomach to her left nipple. She paused there for only a moment and a quick pinch. She moved her hand more slowly now, diagonally to her neck and eventually, with ballet like movement to her half open mouth. She sucked in the two middle fingers. I saw her cheeks collapse concave. There was a hard noise in the canoe. Something scraping on it's bottom. With the slow current always changing her position I could now see that she was grasping the paddle to push the handle against and between her pussy lips. Her other hand returned to her stomach, then thigh, next sharing a hold on the wooden tool that was her toy of fulfillment. It was the most beautiful combination of natural world and human lust under a hot sun on this summer day. At the moment I felt my mouth going dry she reached again with her right arm. This time her hand came to view holding the wine skin. Her arm stretched straight out above her. A dribble, then a stream of red wine flowed down from it onto the center of her rib cage between her breasts trickling to and then directly onto her hand gripping the paddle. The canoe began to rock gently from side to side. The scraping noise increased in speed. While sucking the same two fingers again she flexed her thighs and lifted her toes out of the water. I could clearly see every muscle in her legs from ankles to hips. She was teasing and denying herself the ultimate pleasure. Her legs stiffened more. She lurched in the boat so violently that it made little slapping noises on the waters surface sending out circles of ripples. There was a shudder in a near by tree. A Great Blue Heron lunged from it's nesting place with it's gigantic wings giving lift. The Heron's long legs dangled behind as it passed directly over her. It was like a silent ceremony once it was aloft. I felt her wish was granted. The slow motion flight and her generous self indulgence left her smiling with eyes wide open staring into the bluest of skies. I watched her languish and stroke herself. It was hard to tell but between the sounds of the river and the woods, I could swear that she was singing a soft song. Eventually she sat upright and reached over into the water. She cupped her hands and bathed herself. Tenderly wetting all her skin. Her face was serious now. I feared she would know I was so near. She carefully pulled on her shorts and shirt and began paddling back in the direction of the camp sites. I let her go a little ahead knowing that I could go on to my site without her seeing me through the thick foliage. Once the trail joined the gravel road I hurried my pace and positioned myself at the wooden table on my site. Several minutes passed. Amy did not appear as I had expected her to. I rose to look down towards her camp just in time to see her enter her tent and zip the screen shut. My red canoe was pulled up on the bank. In the long afternoons of August there is plenty of time for naps and returning borrowed items. There would be a meal to prepare later. And, wine may flow from a skin. Girl In A Red Canoe Ch. 3 It seems later in the woods. When the sun gets lower in the sky it filters at an angle that casts long shadows on open ground, but warns the shadowed of the night to come. My nap was peaceful. I even had a dream of drifting in the canoe. Amy was not in the dream but now awake it was like I had dreamed the sights from earlier in the day. A check of my watch told me that it was time to start getting some dinner ready. I was aroused. Rolling over on my sleeping bag to reach for the tent zipper my weight lay on top of my semi erection and I almost reached down between my legs. But, I wanted to get out and see if Amy was around. She was. As I poked my head out of my tent I saw that she was making herself at home at my site. She sat cross legged at my table looking through my binoculars. Her gaze was down the river towards the spot where the Heron and her orgasm had taken flight. She had changed into a short, short sleeved yellow top and blue jean cut offs. Her legs were crossed one over the other showing the strength of her thighs. A line of muscle was displayed from her knee to the rolled up cuff of her faded shorts. She turned her head to smile at me and apologized for keeping the canoe at her site after her ride. I assured her it was no trouble and that we could go together later to retrieve it, and maybe even take it out after sunset. The moon would be near full and due to rise around 10:00 that evening. She accepted my invitation to stay for dinner and started to get a fire going with no prompting from me. I watched her intently. From the moment she rose from the table it seemed to me that her every move was meant to be watched. When she bent to arrange the kindling I could not tear my eyes from her lean muscular legs and the roundness of her ass through the soft denim cloth. The fire lit with no problem. As Amy nursed the small flames from the opposite side of the pit I was fixed on her slender arms and the occasional slacking of her yellow top allowing me the view to her sharp cleavage. The round plumpness of her firm breasts held the same shape no matter what position she stood in. I imagined her to be a woman who did not own a bra. There may well be no contrivance in the world that could improve on their shape or of any other part of her. The smoke shifted straight into her face and eyes. She stood up suddenly laughing with a hand each rubbing the sting away. Her nipples stood erect pushing out from below her top. Once recovered from the smoke she remarked that I was not getting much work done. She suggested we sit and enjoy some wine from her flask before we continued with the meal preparation. It was good wine. I felt a slight wave of warmth from my first sip. We clinked our plastic cups together and I now was staring into her eyes. She looked back into mine. "I'm sorry for looking at you like that," I stammered, embarrassed. "You have the most gorgeous eyes." "Hey, I don't mind." she said. "If you like my eyes that is a compliment and it makes me feel good." We sipped and chatted well after sunset. The fire was blazing with a healthy crackling noise. The wine continued to warm and we laughed often. Amy had a habit of placing her hand on my arm and shoulder as she talked about her life and adventures. Her touch was like punctuation. It was such a treat for me to listen and look into her eyes in the fire light. Somehow we managed a rather tasty supper of vegetables, sliced meats and spices all combined in foil packets. We continued talking of our love of camping and the outdoors. There were several times that I believe she ended a story or changed the topic when it would have lead to telling of previous relationships. This did not bother me a bit. And I was not interested in telling of my own recent break up and the resulting loneliness. Dinner gone, dark surrounding us, we sipped till her wine skin was empty and we both felt that we had only just started the evening. I had plenty of beer at my site but neither of us wanted anything but that soothing wine. She had more at her site so we walked into the darkness down the trail with a flashlight each. We spoke little on our short walk. There was much sound in the wood. Insects, birds, rustlings of unknown origin. Somewhere along the way we took each others hands. It seemed even quieter at this point. I think we had both held our breaths at the same time. When only a yard or so from her tent Amy dropped my hand and ran forward. She turned and spread her arms in a hospitable gesture. "Welcome to my humble abode, kind and gentle man of the woodlands." I grinned from ear to ear at her greeting. She bowed forward in the most graceful manner. Taking two steps backward she emphasized her greeting and caught her heel on a rope tied to a tent stake. She fell as gracefully as she had bowed. Her body spun to catch herself on her knees and hands. Her flashlight rolled away. I sprung to her assistance but she was on her feet laughing in the seconds it took me to get to her. We embraced and she calmed instantly. Her cheek against my chest she sighed. "Are you ok?" I asked. She was silent for a moment. I began to loosen my grip but she stopped me. "Please hold me a little." she whispered. I did so with great contentment. My arms reached around her shoulder blades. She had her hands on my biceps. She squeezed slightly and I returned the gesture by gently massaging her back. It must have been obvious to her that I was getting an erection in my pants as my cock pressed firmly against her flat belly. She shifted her position slightly as if to feel my growing hardness better, but did not let go. I lowered my hands to her hips and continued my gentle massage. My finger tips could feel the upper muscles of her firm ass. She pressed against me with her stomach just a little more before tipping her head up. "I know you were watching me today. When I was in your canoe." My whole body froze. But she did not pull away. "At first I was a little pissed but I was so turned on that your being there only made me enjoy the whole thing more." I tried to think of something to say. "Ahh, ah, I'm sorry about that." I said, feeling foolish and exposed. "Hey, I ended up cumming because of you." she said in a low tone, "I was just touching a little in the sun and then it got into a whole different feel. I was feeling a lot of things inside and it was so beautiful. Believe me, I never did anything like that before," she paused, "…in front of animals." We both laughed so hard that we echoed. Amy finally brought me to arms length. The moon was rising. Her face was smiling and mischievous. "What about that canoe ride?" she asked. I had something else in mind. But, every second I spent with this woman was better than the last. At this point I would have done anything just to be within reach. I know I was a little tipsy but I honestly thought at that moment that if she only let me hold her hand that this would be one of the best nights of my life. Spent with one of the worlds sexiest young women. Perhaps the absolute worlds sexiest woman. Suddenly I realized that I was staring off into the undergrowth. The worlds most wonderful woman was swiftly dragging my wonderful canoe to the edge of the river. She launched it halfway in and stepped to the bow end. I shoved us off. This was a silent and peaceful time. Looking ahead I the saw the reach of the Keetawnee and very erotic views of Amy's tanned arms in the moonlight contrasting with the almost phosphorescent yellow of her top. The shadows were low in the canoe making it look like it was filled with black ink and we were submerged to our thighs. I paddled alone in the stern. She looked out and pointed at things I could not see. We said little. Frogs croaked. The few words we exchanged concerned the beauty of the night and the unusual heat of it. The milky unfocused brightness of the moon. It's ability to make the rivers surface look like black foil one moment and blacker satin the next. I still felt like apologizing again for spying on her. "About this afternoon," I started. She deftly pivoted in her spot. Her brow shaded her eyes. I would call it menacing if not for the upward angle of her closed lips. Amy's slight dimples seemed cavernous in the moon glow. She slid down to the bottom of the canoe and slowly spread her legs. She whispered to me, "Stop paddling." We drifted. "I want you to watch me. Again." Amy placed an ankle over each side of the canoe and let her length spread. Her head tipped back onto the seat to look straight up into the dark sky. I barely heard the teeth of her zipper parting. Her left hand rest on her left thigh, her right hand twirled round and round the pubic hairs closest to the elastic of her panties. Yellow panties. I started to lean forward towards her. Her left hand separated from her thigh and held me like a stop sign. I leaned back watching. She reached to the wine skin. As during the afternoon, she held it as far up as her stiffened arm could reach. The flow was concentrated between her legs, across her thighs and down into the space she now exposed by stretching the elastic of her panties till I thought it would tear. Amy curled her right foot towards her hand where she passed the skin to her curled toes. She did not strain but the flex of her thighs stiffened as she passed it to me clenched tightly till I had it in my hands. Her tipped outstretched foot remained inches from my face like the head of an elegant, curious exotic bird. It lowered to my groin now behaving shyly. I knelt carefully and pulled down my pants. My cock was full. It pulsed and strained. She touched me there with the soft side of her foot. Gentle caress then lifting my balls from below. It was so cooling. I needed to grasp the outer edges of the canoe to keep it from toppling. My entire being was preoccupied with the feeling of her foot flirting with my manhood. My eyes were tightly shut. Till, she moaned loudly. Amy's hands were both secluded within her wine drenched shorts. Her wrists danced and jerked with sudden movements that looked involuntary. I could see she had opened her eyes and was staring straight at my penis. I needed to stroke it and I did. She bucked on the bottom and brought her other foot into play. She hooked me with it, pulling me towards her. Her mouth was contorted, she was biting her lips and her tongue would shoot out violently. Just when I felt I would fall on her convulsing body she lunged from her position. Her right hand remained between her still spread thighs. It was a fight that I would lose. My need to get on her body was soon subdued as she pinned me. Her wine sodden stomach now felt like a rock as her slight frame pressed against my cock. "Grab my ass, GRAB MY ASS!!" she commanded. I clutched her. "HARDER!" With one hand between her legs, three fingers pumping, she grasped my balls with the other. She manipulated my sack, milking it. Then a strange sensation. She stimulated my balls expertly but had the dexterity to relieve her middle finger to stroke the skin between my nuts and my ass. It traveled slowly. In concert with her own writhing and pumping. There was no objection from me as the pain was replaced by pleasure. She was inside me one full knuckle. That was all. Amy was suddenly motionless except for that single digit invading me. Her face was inches from mine. Watching me like prey. I felt helpless in her grasp and penetration. She moved her finger in slow circles and began to push her stomach up and down my aching cock. One hand was still inside herself. "We're going to cum, baby." Her voice was raspy. Her breathing horse as was mine. "I want you to slap my ass, feel it's nice round shape, cup your hand just like it is, then slap it." I couldn't speak. "Cup your hand just like my ass and spank me and cum on my gut." Her massage of my ass and balls increased tempo again. I was going to blow as soon as she did. No words No night Sky removed Moons exploding Lily pads Water rushing Water rushed through hair and around shoulders. Pairs of legs kicking. My back arched as Amy plunged me to her fist. Both hands till grasped her ass and my cock was shooting near endless streams of cum. She was quaking from foot to head. Amy was turning into a quivering mass of orgasm. I grabbed her hips to put a slight distance between her solid body and my still hard cock and raised her up in the weightlessness of the river. Submerged to my chest I entered her and cradled her. It was effortless and embryo like. She now floated on my erection. Dreamy eyed and moaning in a musical tone of submission. I played her lanky body out and reeled it back in till all that I had to give was inside of her. The canoe lay low in the river. It's upper edges barely above water. Our paddle floated nearby as did Amy's panties and shorts. Her wine skin showed up the next day on the shore. The Keetawnee River flowed it's flow and Amy and I moved in together for the rest of the week. I carried her to the shore that night while she held her cheek against my chest humming a tune I will always remember. My arm supporting her shoulders felt the strength there. My remaining hand, below, cupped her ass perfectly.