On the riverbank - Sex Stories

On the riverbank

The man shades his eyes and squints ahead, trying to see through the glinting sunlight reflected off the rivers eddies and currents. His raft moves lazily through the brown slow waters, guided by his sure hands and arms that are pushing and pulling the pole in and out of the muddy river floor. A soft summertime symphony of insect and bird noises fills the air, while a thousand shades of green provide a visual backdrop. There seems to be an endless succession of bushes, trees, brambles and shrubs lining the river bank. Beyond the banks lies miles of hills and forests, without any sign of civilization’s lines and angles. The warm afternoon seems eternal, and he wishes the sun would slip down further, bringing the welcome cool of evening, and a time to rest his aching muscles. She is there suddenly, crouching beside a bush on the bank, with dark eyes locked onto his, and in that moment his world stops. Before he can process the meaning of this strange event, she turns and is gone, as quickly as she had appeared. He is not the sort to imagine strange things, nor is he the sort to waste time on analysis of that which can not be understood. He continues on his way, navigating the slow waters which take him downstream. It is not till another bend is rounded that he sees her again, this time crouching on a large grey rock protruding into the river, underneath the cool shade of a large tree. He is actually a bit miffed this time, because he had been considering tying his raft to ...

... this very rock, but her presence disturbs his perception of the situation. When he turns his head to give the raft a shove with his pole, she slips away again. He shakes his head slowly and allows the river to take him further downstream. At the next bend he brings the raft to the bank, ties it to a large oak, and sets up his meager camp. After setting a pair of cane poles into the muddy bank to bring forth his evening meal, he retreats carefully up the side of the bank and into a cleft in the hillside, being careful to leave no tracks of his passage. He does not do this out of fear, nor is this part of a plan of violence or retribution; he simply feels that something might be seen. Others would have grown impatient or restless waiting for something that might never appear, but it is well within his nature to simply wait. He sits and feels the presence of the forest, the slowly moving river and the softly shifting patterns of life and light all around him. As he waits, a fish begins to work at the bait on one of his lines, but even then he does not move. Suddenly she is there. His heart thumps once in his chest and then is quiet as he wills himself to absolute motionlessness while she moves silently among the bushes just above his camp, but just below his vantage point. She is looking over his camp intently, looking for him, with a look of interest and eyes that pick up every detail. He begins to move silently, coming up behind her, till he is very close. She becomes very still ...