1 comments/ 30191 views/ 4 favorites Nature Lover By: cheeryorchid “Now, aren’t you glad we came?” Keats handed Hannah a canteen of water; he smiled at her, that lopsided smile that made mirrors in his eyes of his feelings. It was the first thing she had noticed about him, the first thing she missed when she was away. She smiled at him, taking the canteen and leaning back against the tree. The sun on her outstretched legs and feet freshly bare from her hiking boots easing her mind. Keats took one foot into his lap massaging the toes and kissing the fat pad below them. “If I had known Mother Nature was going to treat me like this, I’d have looked her up a long time ago,” she smiled. Keats laughed, massaging the other foot, pulling it up to his lips and kissing her ankle. “Well she’s always been real good to me.” He was in his element. She watched him straighten himself to his full 5’10 height, stretch his arms over his head and turn towards the water of the stream. Hannah had not been camping since she was 18, that was seven years ago. Her life was spent busy in a suit at the office. Her new wilderness came with pantyhose, heels, and a cell phone. Keats….he had been a pleasant surprise. He was an EMT who spent the majority of his time outside. Hiking, biking, and especially rowing. Anything that would get him outside and using his hands. You could tell by the way his bronzed skin glowed and the ropy form of his muscles shaped by his passions. Following him along the mountain stream all day had been a task for Hannah. She was not the outdoors type. When he proposed the trip she had had to hit the army surplus for camping supplies and spend a month walking around her backyard in the bulky boots to break them in. She hadn’t wanted to go. Her idea of a weekend away involved satin sheets and room service. However, watching Keats stripping off his shirt standing thigh high in the stream made her forget room service. He was wringing water out of his shirt over his head making streams trickle off his back. The criss-crossing of muscles deflected the water to different places. You couldn’t do that at the Hilton, she mused. The sun was warm, the view was great, and Hannah fell asleep. She smelled smoke. When her eyes flew open, the sky was a pink haze of afternoon. Keats had a fire going near her napping roost at the tree. He had made camp as she dozed. She watched him shifting coals to make room for a mess kit pot. He was wearing his wrung out flannel shirt open showing the faint dust of gold chest hair. He was crouched on his heels watching the sun go down. Hannah sat up, “you’ve been busy.” She smiled at him and stretched her stiff muscles. Keats smiled at her; “I wanted everything to be perfect.” Hannah blushed. They had been together for six months. Almost inseparable, however they had never been intamate. Keats wanted to go slow and believed in taking time in this area. Hanna had been embarrassed when he expressed his desire to wait to her months ago. She had never been a fast girl, but her attraction to him had been so strong she’d have slept with him on the first date. The wait had been torture for her. She felt herself tingling just thinking about it. Keats' smile turned into a thoughtful stare. “You are beautiful when you sleep. I’ve been watching you.” His eyes were growing dark in the flames. Hannah smiled at him she moved to his side her long legs making her only a little shorter than him. “You should have woke me up, not let me be so lazy.” Keats reached out a hand to her cheek, stroking the lose strand of brown hair then placing it behind her ear. It was long hair when down, but she kept it up most of the time. He couldn’t wait to pull it down and hold his hands in the long waves. He had been waiting a long time. His thumb rubbed across her full lips, so soft and he looked down at the long lashes covering her blue eyes. He knew he couldn’t wait much longer. “Like I said,” his voice shook a little, he found himself nervous, “I wanted things perfect. You needed your rest.” She opened her mouth in a small sigh; he couldn’t take it anymore. He slipped his hand behind her neck and pulled her face to his. He kissed her slow and long putting all the emotions he had held so careful in check into the seduction of her lips. His tongue lapping at her lips and coaxing her mouth open and her tongue into his own mouth to play. Hannah slipped her hands around his neck. She held him to her pressing her body into his open shirt. She was so hungry for him. She had waited for him to be ready; pretending that it didn’t bother her that she was ready for this when her boyfriend was not. What is it when a woman is lustier than the man? Or perhaps, by the way his hands were pulling at her hair and moving down her back, perhaps he was just more patient. His hands slipped down to her hips, pulling her shirt out of her shorts, his thumbs stroking the skin at her sides below her ribs. He moaned in her mouth when the back of his hand touched her breasts kissing her harder. He placed his hands on her ass and pressed her hard against his hips. She could feel his arousal throbbing between them, she almost came undone at the first pulse beat on her thigh. “Hann…,” he managed to growl out, his hands holding her to him as he moved his hips against her. He kissed her jaw then her neck moving to her ear never letting go of her ass his fingers digging into the rounded flesh. “Hann, I can’t wait. If I don’t have you now I won’t be so gentle.” Hannah felt drugged by his hands and his mouth; she held onto him her mind hazy. She put her hands inside of his shirt and felt the warm skin. She grazed his nipples with her nails, leaning in to nip at the skin around his collarbone breathing in the scent of him. She felt his hands freeze, holding her still. “Hann please,” he grabbed her hands, he was breathing heavily, the muscle in his jaw twitching his eyes dark. “Don’t love I want to be perfect, gentle, and just for you.” Hannah met his eyes, she watched him for the longest moment, a breath hanging between the two. He wanted to be tender with her, but she had waited too long for tender. Taking a chance, she leaned in and sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, biting on the lush lip. She freed a hand and placed it against his arousal. She stroked him through his pants, “Who says perfect has to be gentle.” In the next blink, Hannah’s feet were off the ground. He carried her to the blanket under the tree. Fresh air hit her chest the same time her rear settled on the ground. Before her mind became oriented again, she was under him naked. His hands stroked everywhere, her sides her breasts, her thighs. He knelt between her open legs, bare-chested, exploring her. She reached up to undo his fly. She could read in his face his will power trying to slow himself down. Hannah sat up, undoing his pants and sliding her hands inside, “Keats, we have lots of time,” she whispered, her hand cupping his balls so full in her palm, the other stroking him getting an idea of his size. He was so wonderfully hard and longer than she had imagined. “Don’t hold back, I want you too much.” He leaned up, pushing his pants out of the way of her hands. His hands gripping her breasts firmly, their large size spilling around his fingers. They kissed, speaking with tongues and lips dancing together. One hand slid between her legs, he pressed two fingers against her shaved slit, wet juices meeting them immediately. She was wet and warm, maddening to his senses. He kissed her and pressed himself on top of her again. Holding his hand against the lips of her pussy, the other raising one of her legs high on his hips. Hannah stretched under him. His fingers were gliding over her slick clit making hot surges heat her stomach. It had been a long time since another had touched her there; the sensation was driving her wild. When his fingers slid into her waiting inside she almost cried with the sensation. Keats heard her and his excitement could no longer be held back. “Oh Hann,” he growled before he pulled her legs up high and slid himself in. There’s something about that first time when two becomes one. Hannah stopped breathing; the tingling was so intense and strong. She could feel every inch of him from her inside, every vein, every twitch the feeling so strong and good she choked on her own cry of passion. Her breath let go when she felt him thrust hard, all of him firmly in her waiting body. He held her there, his arms curling under her, holding her shoulders, his face pressed to the side of hers. He was waiting for her. She breathed against his ear, a low whimper blowing against his lobe as she used her muscles to grip him inside. Then he began. Long and slow strokes. Holding her shoulders to keep her firmly planted as he sped up their lovemaking. Each thrust driving her nearer to her edge. Making love with him made her understand the meaning of bittersweet. His size filling her to stretching. She felt like a virgin again, but virgins did not have the same desires as a woman who knows where the pleasure and pain can meet. She wrapped her legs high around his hips and rode him from underneath. Working together, their rhythm picked up to a hurried speed. Keats’ chest grazing her nipples into hard peeks, Hannah sucking on his chin to keep from screaming, her hands holding his back, stroking him there. He leaned in, taking one nipple in his mouth and sucking hard, his hand playing with the other. Her hands were in his hair holding him there, her body keeping up with the rhythm of their hips. His mouth traded places with his hand, his fingers sliding over her face. She took them in her mouth and simulated on them the feelings his cock was making in her inside. He leaned back as if a shock at went through him. His eyes cloudy and intense on her face. Hannah held his fingers in her mouth, lapping and sucking on the two; she could taste herself on their tips. He took her hands in his, jerking them over her head and holding them there with one hand. The feeling of being pinned and under his strength excited her more, as he began thrusting harder and faster. His face buried in her neck, biting at her shoulder, and her neck. She never dreamed he could be so hard and forceful. It aroused her completely. He bit her ear, his tongue inside the center swirl. “I want to cum inside you, Han,” he whispered hoarsely. The request, surprised her and excited her, she bucked her hips under him, wrapping her ankles together high above his back, “yes,” she said barely audible in her moaned breath. The intensity suddenly catching her. At the exact moment, the white heat in her belly exploded, the first coil taking her high, she jerked under him. “Yes!” she screamed, her head tilting back to the pleasure, “now, Keats, oh Keats!” He bit at her ear, holding the lobe and fucking her savagely. Her orgasm sending him over. When he felt her juices sliding out onto his balls, he burst inside. Thrusting into her so hard, her ass bounced off her thighs, he pounded her over and over until the last of him jerked inside of her. He collapsed beside her, drawing her immediately to his chest and clutching her there. He couldn’t catch his breath, she couldn’t stop shaking. The moment had been so intense and so much wilder than he had imagined for their first time. No words could be found to express the amazement of it all. They were alone in nature, and finally at one with each other. Keats kept thinking of her promise that they had all the time. He would go slow next time. He would make sure she was pleasured in every way. He hoped he had not hurt her. He looked over to her face. She was stroking his jaw and his temple with a shaky hand. Her eyes were deep with pleasure, her lips swollen from his kisses. In wonder and delight he realized, his gentle lover, didn’t seem to mind the not so gentle after all. She leaned in and bit his chin, then kissed the bite. He pulled her on top of him, her legs straddling his hips; he could feel himself become aroused again. How nice to know the woman he loved, loved for him to not hold anything in. The night was just beginning. Hannah moved down, taking his nipple in her hot mouth. They had a lot of time to catch up she mused as she felt him growing against her thigh. She slid back to let her wet slit grease him. A lot of time indeed. She could get used to this wild outdoors. Nature Lover Don't ask. Just don't. That was one week I was glad to see the last of. The only good thing about it was that all my current jobs were wrapped up and the next weren't going to start for a while. I packed my pack and put some extra non-perishables in the trunk. I thought for a moment, then added another block of watercolor paper. I left my cell phone by the door on the way out, and was gone. It's about a three hour drive to that big national wilderness area -- no, I won't tell you which one -- and it too me most of that drive to stop fuming. I made my way up that old logging road to the more remote side of the wilderness area, until the only sight of human life was a contrail overhead. I left a note on the dashboard saying when I expected to return, tied on my hiking boots, and started up the trail. With more than a week's worth of food, the pack was heavier than usual. Three hours of rough terrain later, I was sweating and more than ready to stop. The exercise had burned off my foul mood, though, so I was ready to enjoy the solitude of this amazing little spot I had discovered. When I saw the rock face that reflected extra sunlight into the little glen, that "here I am" sense of relief flooded me. Then I saw a beer can. I don't know what hit first, shock that someone would desecrate this little natural temple, anger that they would, or the sense of loss of a spot I had considered mine alone. Looking around, I saw lots more litter and signs that the last campers here were complete slobs. I set my pack against a tree and looked around. At least the little spring didn't show any signs of disrespect. I know it's dumb not to disinfect the water before I drink it, but something about this spring always made me feel a little reckless, as if something that beautiful couldn't possibly hurt me. So far it hadn't. I scooped a few handfuls of water into my mouth and enjoyed its cool, clear taste. The weather was supposed to stay agreeable for at least the next few days, so I didn't bother to set up the tent. I unpacked my lunch, the last kitchen-made meal I'd have for a while, and munched sandwiches while I looked around the little glade. It was clear that the slobs had been here some time ago, since the litter looked weather-worn and the plastic casing on a shotgun shell (I cringed) had started to bleach in the sunlight. I had to get my own camp set up first, but then I was going to clean up that mess. I collected a little wood, dead branches that hadn't fallen yet, then started to clean up. I began near the spring, walking back and forth so I'd cover every part of the ground. By the time the sun started to drop, I had collected a lot more trash than I expected. Some, I could just bury and it would decompose. That included some small carcasses, squirrel maybe, with broken bones sticking out through what was left of the pelts. Other garbage would burn, but there was still a fair bit that I'd have to carry out. I was still annoyed by whoever had thrown the garbage around, but my feelings mellowed a bit knowing that I was undoing some of the damage. I built my small file where theirs had been -- the scorch mark showed that it had been a lot bigger than there was any need for. I cooked one of the freeze-dried meals using some of that crystalline spring water, doused the fire, and unrolled my sleeping bag under the stars. In the middle of the night, I woke up in a way that I hadn't since I was a teenager: at the defining moment of a wet dream. I enjoyed it of course, but it had been a strange dream and it will sound even stranger if you've never had one like it. There was nothing overtly erotic about the dream, just images of this little glen somehow overlaid with intense sexual feeling. I figured "that's dream logic for you," wiped up the mess with my underwear, and went back to sleep still half-hard from the dream. If you must know, I had my hand over my crotch as I went back to sleep. Breakfast was eggs, home-fries from a potato baked in the coals of my little fire, and coffee. Maybe it doesn't make much sense, but coffee out here always seems to taste better. I thought about getting my paints out, but decided to look around again, first. I just couldn't bear to paint the scene until I knew that the litterbugs' contamination was gone. It took most of the morning, with frequent breaks at the cool spring, but I finally convinced myself that I had gotten all of the mess that I was going to find. (They had even left fishing line with hooks still on. Fish-hooks!) Back at the camp, I made some cheese sandwiches. I sat, munching, and let the warmth of the day soak into me. All that fresh air must have had some kind of effect on me, since I was unexplainably horny again. My penis seemed to have a mind of its own out here. By myself, I could do anything I wanted, so I stroked it casually while I ate, just enjoying the feeling of having a full erection. It's not exhibitionism if no one is watching, so I decided to finish the job. I lay back on my sleeping bag, pushed my shorts down to my thighs, and started. I won't bore you with the details -- who wants to listen to a description of someone else wanking? I took my time, though, enjoying the warmth of the erection in my hand and even the taste of pre-come when I wet my hand with saliva. Climax, when it came, went on for a while, long after the jets of semen had slowed to final dribbles. Finally, I unwound. The erection shrank in my hand, and I wiped up with the paper towel I had used as a napkin. After I left the wad in my latrine trench, way away from the spring, I went back to clean up. The spring turned into a little brook, so I went well downstream of where I took the water from, washed my hands, and brushed my teeth. I watched reflections in the water while I brushed, trying to think how I could paint that play of light over the gravel in the little stream bed. My mind had wandered well away when I thought I saw something in the water -- a face, a pretty one. I blinked and looked again. It must have been a trick of light on the rippled surface. It turned into a hot day, and I relished the heat. I spent the afternoon with my watercolors, adding one more to the largish collection of images I had already made of this place. It felt good to dunk my head in the spring every now and then, to feel that pleasant chill against the heat of the day. Late in the afternoon, I got my fishing line from the pack and went down to the river ten or fifteen minutes away. A fair-sized trout bit on a bread-ball within a few minutes, so I had my supper. I never bring a flashlight on these trips, so I enjoyed the last of my little fire. I also broke out that bottle of single-malt I had packed in, and measured out a little cup of the brew. There's something about that place. From the very first time I found it, I felt as if I owed it something. As usual, I poured a few drops on the ground. Of course, I didn't believe that any spirit or anything would want my sacrifice. The gesture just made my feeling of reverence more real to me, somehow. I stared into the fire and sipped, washing it down with a canteen of the spring's cool water. Since I don't bring lights on these trips, except the one for emergencies, I was in my sleeping bag not long after darkness fell. Half-thoughts meandered through my mind as I drifted off -- yes, I'm male, so a lot of them were snippets of erotic fantasies. It happened again. I awoke in deep darkness, with a pounding erection pumping into my underwear. The dream faded only slowly as I came to. Its dream-logic stayed with me as I enjoyed the involuntary release. A petite, pale woman had been working me gently and firmly with her hands, saying "Thank you." Thanks for what, I had no idea. I couldn't move in that dream, except the for the instinctive motions of my orgasm, but my weakness seemed natural. I came to as the dream faded, wiped the annoying little mess up with another pair of underwear, and went back to sleep thinking vaguely about how long my clean clothes would last at this rate. Next morning, as I sipped that delicious coffee, I wondered where the teenaged hormones were coming from. Those days are thirty years in my past for me, or more. I'm not really complaining, except that I hadn't planned on washing clothes out here. I just figured I had been wound up way too tight for way too long (which was true), and my body was reveling in being treated decently for once. Lots of exercise, lots of sleep, not eating and drinking the wrong things -- maybe that was it. After I washed the breakfast dishes, I put another pot of water over the fire. A sponge bath would feel good. There was something deliciously rebellious about going toward the river naked, to rinse off. (It's a vegetable-oil soap, so I don't worry about a little going into the water.) The brook from the spring forms a fair-sized pool shortly before it joins the river. I went in there, where the sandy bottom would show me what I was stepping on. I waded into the clear water, braced myself for the cold, and dunked myself. After the initial shock, it felt kind of nice. I lolled in the water, floating with my eyes closed, and enjoyed the gentle rippling of the current against my skin. It took me a while to notice just how much I was enjoying the feel of the water. Despite the cold, I had popped an erection that worked its way quickly to fullness. Well, if it's going to happen, I might as well enjoy it. The familiar feeling of thickness and pressure contrasted with the cold contraction that pulled my balls in close. Turbulence in the water had my erection bobbing back and forth, almost like playing with the sprayer in my shower at home. Soon, the feeling of pressure built to the point that I had to do something about it. I waded out of the pool, erection leading the way, and found a large, smooth boulder in a sunny spot. Once again, I stroked myself slowly to orgasm. After coming more times than I had in the last month, it wasn't a big load, but I kicked some dirt over it anyway. I hadn't planned to spend my whole trip jerking off. If I did, though, what was the harm? I went back to the water, rinsed my hands and crotch again, then turned back toward camp. I took one last look back at the pool as I walked away. It's a gorgeous spot with soft, mossy banks, but something didn't seem quite right about it. I mean, the mirror surface of the pool looked right, but there was something I couldn't put my finger on. It niggled at me as I dressed. I grabbed my paints and a block of paper, and went back. Painting it would make me look carefully at the pool and its mirror surface. Maybe that would get rid of the nagging feeling or show me what it came from. As I finished up the pencil under-drawing, it occurred to me. That beautiful surface, reflecting the trees and the mountain behind, was about as still as water ever gets. The little flow from the spring couldn't create much current when the creek turned as wide and deep as it was here. So where did the turbulence come from, the bustling flow that had gotten me so turned on? I kept drawing as my mind wandered and wondered about that. When my attention came back to the page, I was startled to see what I had drawn. The light, loose sketch of the pond looked fine, but I had added a girl's -- no, a woman's figure, a small one, sitting on the far shore. It was the tiny, pale woman from my dream. The pencil marks were already a little too heavy to be the outline of a watercolor, but it hadn't given me that 'done' feeling yet so I kept working at it. When I could finally stop and look at the drawing critically, I wasn't sure what to make of it. The petite woman, four feet tall or less, seemed to be staring at me. She leaned to the side, supported on one arm. One leg curled half-under her, the other foot planted on the ground with her bent knee upwards. A soft breast hung a little to the side as she leaned; a small dense patch of pubic hair seemed to clothe her. Pale hair tumbled behind her shoulder. Only her size was child-like; her curves and confidence projected womanly strength. I looked back across the little pond to where the imagined figure would have sat. Nothing. It was just a mossy bank, like the one on this side. I stared at the drawing for a while, then cut the sheet loose from the block of thick paper, set it aside, and sketched again. The presence wasn't there, this time. Once a few lines defined the general plan of the painting, I wet the paper and started in. I'm not sure which I like better: the early stages of a painting, where I use broad strokes to define the major visual masses in the painting, or the later steps where detail fills in its character and personality. Noon was well past when I had to set the block down to dry a little. I lunched in the sun basking in warmth while I ate apples and a sandwich, then washed it down with that gleaming water. Despite the amount of detail, I finished the painting before the light had changed too much. It was a nice effort, but I kept looking at that pencil drawing as I walked back to camp. Sometimes I draw something and get that feeling, "Where the heck did that come from?", but never as strongly as this time. I had a few hours of daylight left, so I collected some more dead branches and cut them to length with a cable saw. I straightened up the site (bachelor habit, I guess), and even cleared some branches and leaves from the spring. I caught another fish and poached it with wild onions and some watercress from the brook, then ate it with another potato baked in the coals. I washed up as darkness set in so the food residues wouldn't attract animals, poured another ration of whiskey for myself, and watched the fire die down. A few times, I thought I saw motion out of the corner of my eye. When I looked, though, I didn't see anything. I knew the area didn't have wildlife bigger than an opossum or raccoon, so I chalked it up to tired eyes. That night, I stripped down before going to sleep, and folded a towel over me. If I was going to have one of those dreams again, I didn't want it on the sleeping bag. My genitals tensed at the happy thought. Once I crawled in, though, I was asleep in a few minutes. Sure enough, I had another of those dreams. The tiny woman was there, just sitting next to me, but that was somehow enough to give me a huge erection. I lay there, unwilling or unable to move, while it bobbed in time to my pulse. Her pale features smiled as it rose. Somehow, without touching me, I felt waves of warm pressure rolling back and forth along it. It felt like having sex, or maybe just having my erection in a lover's mouth. In my dream, though, nothing actually touched it. Still, that unseen manipulation milked clear droplets of pre-come from the tip. The woman leaned closer when she saw that, still not touching even though I thought I could feel the warmth of her breath on my penis. Something else added to the feeling, an inner sense of pressure that matched the urgency building in my erection. It was almost like the greased-glove exam at my yearly checkup, my least favorite part, except this was enjoyable. My body tensed in the dream, in the way that said I would come any moment. Then the small woman's eyes closed with an intent expression, the feelings in my erection and inside peaked, and it happened. Even having drained myself so many times in the last few days, three our four deep spasms still pulled thick, white semen out of me, and a few dry spasms followed. As on previous nights, I woke up as I ejaculated. At least, I thought I did, or dreamed I did. A dark shape loomed near me. It turned toward me and reached out. I was still too groggy to move, even when one hand reached toward my face and another reached toward my falling erection. As soon as I felt the touches of two hands, a gentle, feminine voice said "Sleep" and I slept again. I awoke early the next morning, when the sun was barely up. My morning wood was up before me, and eager for a visit to the latrine pit. I opened the sleeping bag and folded back the towel. Sure enough, I found the wet spot and the dream came back to me. That beautiful, tiny woman again, and wet dreams three nights in a row. I thought that was just a way for a body to unload excess semen, but that couldn't be the case here. I was surprised there was anything left to ejaculate. I pulled on pants and a shirt, peed in my little trench, and started my cooking fire. I took the coffee pot down to the spring to fill up. As I approached, I thought I saw something -- that tiny pale face, just above the water. As soon as it turned to look at me, it sank again, without a sound. The tiny dream-woman seemed to be appearing everywhere. It was getting ridiculous. She was barely four feet tall as I imagined her, maybe three and a half, but the water there was only six inches deep. I felt OK, not feverish, and everything else seemed normal enough -- as if my judgment were worth anything right then. If anything strange happened again, I'd pack up and leave while I was still well enough to get help. But, come to think of it, all that had happened so far just looked like a case of howling hormones. Really, I never felt better. I ate, cleaned up, and enjoyed the residual tingle in my pants that kept me on the verge of erection. Even that feeling passed, slowly, when I took my paints, lunch, and canteen out along the rock face by the river. I finished another watercolor early in the afternoon, and returned to camp. The day had heated up, so I went down to the river for some skinny-dipping. I didn't even bring a towel -- I figured it would take only a few minutes to air-dry. The water felt good, but I couldn't do much more than get wet. The current was too strong for the relaxing swim I had in mind. I waded up the bank to where the rivulet from the spring joined the river. I didn't stir up much mud from the sandy bottom as I approached the pool. This was more like it. I couldn't swim here, there wasn't enough room, so I just leaned against the mossy bank and basked in the cool water. I guess my body responded to the heat of the day by declaring siesta time. I didn't realize how sleepy I was when I lay my head against the pillowy bank of the pool -- I was asleep in minutes. I don't know how much time had passed when I woke up again, but the sun hadn't moved much. I could lay in the water until I wrinkled like a prune. I figured I wasn't really awake yet when I realized how hard it was to stir myself, but I didn't mind. I lay there in a strange, happy lassitude. It must have been a strange state, because I scarcely blinked when a woman's head rose slowly from the pond. It was the tiny woman of my dreams, with that wide, delicate face and angled eyes. It couldn't be, though. The water was too shallow for her to stand in. And anyway, she appeared only above the surface and down to it. Under the surface, through her reflection, I could see only the sandy bottom. Part of a woman was coming toward me, but my reaction was even stranger than that. It was no reaction at all, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. I noticed that, too, but let the thought go. She walked toward me, rising from the water. When she was chest deep, her full, soft breasts bobbed and seemed to float (above the surface, not below it). They lowered as she rose and lost the water's support. Her sleek, tapered waist and curved belly appeared next, seeming to materialize from the surface. Next, her small, thick pubic patch appeared. I knew it was barely more than a foot deep, there, but she looked to be standing on something at least a foot deeper than that. She waved to me with a shy, friendly gesture that didn't match the certainty of the way she carried herself toward me. Still, I couldn't move, and even that still didn't scare me the way it would have any other time. Nature Lover She sat down next to me in the water. Without a word, she turned her attention to my genitals. I started to swell immediately, and soon rose to full erection -- and she hadn't touched me yet. Then she reached toward me with one hand. The moment it went below the surface, her hand disappeared. All I could see was myself, with my erection twitching with excitement. Then, I felt her hand on it. Just felt, there was nothing to see. When I closed my eyes (I could move that much), I could feel the warm pressure of her tiny hand. I looked again. Her arm still ended at the water's surface. Below, there was only me and the sand. My penis moved as if she were stroking it, though. She certainly knew how to handle a male body. Soon, I felt pre-come oozing up my shaft, even if I couldn't see it. At that point, she seemed to get up on her knees, allowing her beautifully sculpted rear to rise above the surface. She leaned forward, over my hips, still holding my erection with an unseen hand. As she leaned, her dangling breasts touched the water. The tips vanished as soon as they submerged. Almost her entire breast had disappeared when her face entered the surface, and vanished like everything else. In a moment, though, I felt a new warmth and pressure on my erection, an exploring tongue, and a suction that made me think of suckling. I could still see my erection, and the soft tissues in it shifted under the unseen pressure. I've traded oral sex with lots of lovers, but she beat them all. I could still feel her hand at the base of my erection. I'm not that big, but she was so small there was no way her mouth could take more than half. The whole of the crown seemed to be in her mouth, though, and I saw it shifting as the unseen tongue caressed it. It felt as if I would come any minute. The nymph seemed to sense that in me, too. I hadn't realized how inhumanly long her face had been underwater (and invisible) until it reappeared above the surface. Still holding my rod with invisible hand, she stood up. Although smaller than small, her hip curved with womanly lushness. She lifted a leg and swung it over me. A tiny, perfect foot appeared, then vanished again when it entered the water on the other side of me. Only the top fringe of her pubic hair showed above the surface. This amazing being moved forward, straddling me, until I felt my submerged penis scrape her pubic hair. She reached down with her other hand, the one not holding me, and it vanished under water too. The angle of her wrist looked familiar, though. I'd seen it in past lovers, spreading their labia to clear the way into their bodies. What a sensation. I wondered if a woman that small could take a penis my size, but she seemed to have no doubts. The tip of my erection felt invisible warmth and softness. She lifted herself a little, then sat onto me again. Little by little, she used my erection to widen the canal within her. It seemed like forever before I felt the resilient curve of her bottom against my thighs. She had done it, I was in all the way. I had never felt a lover so tight inside, but it seemed like what I was born to do. At that point, she stopped for a moment, settled herself again, and got used to the feeling inside her. Then she leaned forward. Her hands appeared for a moment when they cleared the surface, then vanished again as she leaned onto me. I could feel her full weight as she leaned onto my chest. She lifted her hips a little, then sank down again, so I could feel my erection clasped by her inner walls. She shifted again, bringing her knees up out of the water so she could sit even more deeply onto me. That's when I bottomed out within her. She got a surprised look on her face, with her lips in a silent "O", then smiled again. She used that extra pressure to her advantage and mine. That pushed me over the top. I bucked against her, driving deep in short, sharp motions. Looking down, I could still see my erection under the surface, under her torso, even as I felt myself implanted deeply between her hips. At last, I could move my arms. I gripped her thighs, tugged her down onto me with strength I didn't know I had, and came inside her. Another tug, another jet of sperm. She shifted a hand toward her pelvis, rubbing her invisible clit in a frenzy, then she came too. That incredible tightness clamped down hard on my erection, as my hips drove into her. She made no sound, but her face told the story. Her eyes clenched closed, her mouth opened wide, and her hand on my chest grabbed me so hard it almost hurt. Her climax soon passed, as did mine. Still mounted on my fading erection, she leaned forward and stretched her legs out behind her, lying full length along my torso. I could feel her warmth and softness against me, even see the hairs in my chest and stomach pressed flat by her weight, but every part of her underwater could not be seen. When my erection shriveled enough, it popped out of her by itself. A moment later, she stood up, swung her leg off me, and turned. As she did, she made the first sounds I had heard from her. She said, "I'll be around." I was still immobilized by that strange lassitude, or I would have begged her to stay. Instead, she walked away. As if she were climbing down a staircase, her thighs, hips, and belly sank under the surface, vanishing as they did. Her breasts floated for a moment before they vanished too. When only her head showed, she turned, gave a Cheshire cat smile, and sank out of sight. That gave me back control of my arms and legs. I waded over to the place I had last seen her -- there was nothing but sandy bottom. The water barely came past my ankles. At the same time my strength came back, so did my rational mind's ability to respond to these events. The response, quite reasonably, was irrational. None of this made sense. It couldn't have happened, it wasn't possible. I looked down at my shrunken penis, though, and saw that last milky drop of semen at its tip. Something had happened -- and I had obviously enjoyed it. I climbed out of the pool and got my clothes back on, even though I was still wet. I went back to the campsite, got my fishing gear again, and went back to the river to catch supper. I played the events over and over in my mind. They kept making sense within themselves, but not with respect to anything else I had ever known. I soon had the fish I needed and walked back. It was still early, the sun was high, but I was hungry. Fish, wild onion, and watercress. A few other things from my supplies. An hour later, I washed the last of it down with the last mouthful in my canteen. I took it back to the little pool where the spring bubbled up, but hesitated. I sat for a while, wondering just what was going on under that glassy surface. As I sat, my erection rose again. For crying out loud, I just had the best sex of my life two hours ago, and that thing was ready to go again. Just then, the pool gave a huge splash. The tiny woman had burst out of the water, only a few inches deep at that point, and turned to face me. She sat on the bank across from me with her feet invisible in the water. This impossible being, maybe two arm-lengths away, gave that shy little wave again and smiled. "Hi." Stuck for an answer, I said the same. "Hi." I had definitely lost it. I was talking to a hallucination. "Not much of a talker, are you." "Uh," I groped for words. "I've never met anyone like you before." "Sure you have," she said breezily. "You've met me." "I mean before today, before this trip." "I've been here every time you visited." That baffled me. "So, why the warm welcome this time? Oh, thanks, by the way, you were wonderful, but why? What did I do to deserve something that incredible?" "Why you? Because you treat me with a little respect. You don't put anything in the water, or at least nothing I can't handle easily enough. The others around here tell me that you're neat around them, too. I thought you ought to know that I appreciate that. We all do." "Wow. You have a heck of a way of showing it. But still, why me? Why now?" "Because, a few months back, I had other visitors. They were awful. They dug their waste pit right next to the spring, they left junk all over the place. There were lots of things, really, but," she closed her eyes and shuddered, "what they did to the animals was the worst." I remembered those broken little carcasses and shuddered with her. She continued "After that, we all came to appreciate your company much more than before." "So you decided to seduce me?" I couldn't really use the word that meant I was unwilling. "There's only so much I can do. I live in this spring and for it. Whatever I can do for you has to come from this spring." "You're telling me you're a water fairy." "The traditional term is naiad, but water fairy is close enough." I was talking to a water fairy. A fairy. I really had lost it. "So, that's why the water always tastes so good here?" "I do my best. For you, at least. Not so much for the others." She giggled. "What do you mean?" "They drank the water, too. Even though they put those little pills in it, all six of them spent day and a half spewing out both ends. They took that as my invitation to leave." "Well, thanks. May I?" I gestured toward the spring with my empty canteen. "Of course. Be my guest." I filled it and took a big swallow before I screwed the cap back on. "You do a great job keeping it fresh." "You helped. I could clean up most of what they dumped into the water, but not the solid garbage. When you cleaned that up, I decided to you deserved something really special. You weren't just treating me nicely, the way you always do. You undid what they left behind. You didn't have to do that." "So those great dreams, the endless erection, more orgasms than I've had in months, that was all you?" "It's OK, isn't it?" A little doubt crept into her voice. "Wow. More than OK. I have felt this good in years. But, if all you can control is the spring, how could you do all that? The dreams, for instance?" "I can use what comes from the spring, the water. And you've been drinking the water. Most of what's in your veins right now, the liquid part, comes from me, and I still have some influence over it." I felt my erection stiffen again, pressing awkwardly against my pants. She went on. "The first night, with only a little of my water to work with, I could only give a little nudge in the direction your body was going anyway. I can do a lot more now." She grinned, and that incredible squirming feeling way inside started again. I felt a droplet escape my erection and dampen my pants. She asked, "May I?" I couldn't stop her if I wanted, but I didn't want to. "Sure. You've done beautifully so far. What do you want me to do?" "Oh, just get undressed and relax over there. I'll do the rest, unless you want to help." I did as she asked, and lay on my side on the grassy bank. Even before I stretched out, I could feel her working from within me, giving unbelievable sensations. I usually don't think a guy my age has that much in me, but she knew where to find it. I rolled onto my back as the sensations built up, and she slipped into the little pool where the spring bubbled up. It still startled me, seeing her nearly four feet of height sink into a few inches of water. I lay on my back as the intensity built, and felt myself arching up when she created that pressure within my erection. Soon, my hand went around it. My own pumping caught her rhythm and we worked together. I got up on my knees when the waves of tension built higher. Her bodiless head popped up in the water again as I got closer to orgasm. Then, just when I was about to turn away, she took a mouthful of water, squirted me with it, and giggled. Whatever she did just then caused the most forceful ejaculation so far. It went a foot or more out, and into the little pool. I couldn't help myself. A few more jets followed. Panting, I tried to get the words out. "I'm ... unhh, I'm sorr ..." "I'm sorry about that," I said when I could control myself. "I just lost it at the last moment." I would have felt bad about contaminating the water anyway. Now that I knew about her, I really regretted my loss of control. She answered brightly, "Oh don't worry about it. I can take care of that easily enough." She ducked down under the surface again. In a moment, the white blobs shrank and vanished. Her head appeared again, licking her lips with a smile. "You taste good. If you want to see a real mess, you should be here when the frogs spawn. I have to go now. Sweet dreams." her head started to sink into the pool. "Wait, what's your name?" She rose up again. "Name? Don't bother. I'm always here. If someone's here, it's me. G'bye." She vanished with a little splash. I didn't see her again. The dreams came every night, though, and so did I. Once or twice more during the day, she would bring me to full attention again, and we worked together toward a delightful release. I didn't let it get in the water, though. I knew she could deal with it, but there was no reason to make more work for her. I go back a few times a year, and it's the same each time. I keep the place clean, and the place makes me the happiest guy around. I pick up trash other places too, even more than I used to. I never told anyone why -- not that they'd believe me -- but figure that word gets around and I don't want a bad reputation. As a result, I take a lot teasing about being the Nature Lover. "Yes," I answer, "I guess I'm her lover." I leave it at that.