tagNonHumanThe Mist by the River

The Mist by the River

bylulubabe©

It was the breeze on her cheek which woke her with its chill caress. She murmured, half-asleep and fumbled within the sleeping bag for her boyfriend. The bag was warm, but he was gone.

Confused, she crawled shivering over the heap of bedding to the tent flap and blearily peered out. By the cold light of the stars she saw the flicker of his body disappearing into the trees. Beyond the wood boundary the mist was laying over the river.

Around the dead embers of the fire the debris was scattered - bottles, clothes, inhibitions - but all her friends were in various states of intoxicated coma zipped within their nylon cocoons. Drunk yes, daft no.

She crawled back into the tent to grope round for her watch. 4.30. Hmmm, the others wouldn't be up for at least another four hours after last night's excesses. She wasn't sure why her head didn't feel like it was in a vice, but she was buzzing; tingling almost. She smiled to herself. Perhaps she should give him a surprise; he was awake after all and very much a morning man.

She pulled on her jeans, a tight t-shirt and ankle boots. Hey, so heeled lace-up boots weren't everyday camping gear; but these things were only to be expected of a city girl like her, weren't they? She wrapped one of their blankets round her, laughing as the smell of dope wafted up.

As she headed down to the trees her heels pierced the crisp ground and she stifled a giggle. Peering into the shade she went more carefully, looking round for his white t-shirt.

C'mon, c'mon, where are ya? Ha! There, glowing pale in the moonlight.

She carefully made her way towards him, steadying herself on tree trunks and avoiding the crispier piles of leaves. Round the tree she crept and reached out for him. Nothing. Confused she peered round the tree - it had just been the mist billowing.

"Hello?"

There was silence, the mist sucking away any sound. She looked behind her and made her way back along towards the path, but its route was not obvious and, deciding she must have missed it, she doubled back on herself.

Suddenly there was a twist in the path and she was down at the river. She looked down nervously at its languid blackness, it seemed almost to ooze like oil.

Fine, she thought, and turned to head back up. As she clambered between the trees branches caught in her hair, and as she put up a hand to protect herself thorns slashed across her palm. Upset, she moved along parallel with the thicket, and this time was almost relieved when she came upon a grassy slope leading down to the water.

She knelt and stretched her dripping hand to the water, drops running down the blades of grass to the earth, and splashing the water to ripple out. She leaned over and swirled her hand in the water, shocked then soothed by its coldness. Once it was rinsed she stood again and sat on a fallen log, pressing her palm.

Quietly she watched the mist billowing. She had never really watched mist before - it was a stranger - and she could see no rhythm to it, no reason for its movement as there was no wind.

It was definitely coming closer, lapping gently and curiously she watched it as it circled round towards her, wondering whether it was a reaction to the heat of her body. Tendrils of mist brushed along the pointed toe of her boot, and when she raised and lowered it, it stayed curled under her heel, while stretching towards the other foot. Curiously she reached down and slid her hand into it, the light mist becoming dense round her hand, dispersing when she lifted back out again.

Smiling, she wondered what would happen if it reached warmer skin than her hand. She listened again for any sound, then when the silence was absolute she unlaced her boots, sliding out her feet to wriggle her toes, soles curling up from the cool dew coating the grass. For a second she hesitated, then pulled her vest top over her head and stripped off her jeans.

Naked in the woods she was surprised how warm she felt - it was so wild, she ran her fingers through her hair and arched her back. The mossy grass was soft beneath her feet and the mist caressed them as she dug in her toes, again densing to that strange milky-white colour.

Tendrils of mist were curling up round her ankles now and she watched as the body of the mist began flowing down from the trees towards her. She smiled and murmured with pleasure, raising her hands above her hair.

She had not even touched her own flesh, yet she could feel her arousal spreading too down her thighs. Gently she knelt on all fours on the moss, waiting for the mist. Slowly its whiteness swallowed up her feet, her ankles and her knees and she slid her knees apart to lower herself for it.

Its soft cloud was upon her now, and she felt the cold of it against her warm juices; she leant forward so that her nipples brushed the green carpet below her, and the cold spread through her nipple-rings, deep into her breasts.

She moaned as the mist finally caressed her cunt. Its touch across her was so cold, as dense almost as the feel of real flesh, yet so otherworldly and ephemeral. She felt it flowing round her lips, then deep inside of her; she reached back between her legs and opened herself to it.

Slowly she began to rub her clit with her thumb, making herself moan and gasp, and she rolled onto her back, arching from the reaction. It wasn't enough though, and was so distracting she looked around, and casting her eyes on a sturdy stick she started to slide back and forth along it as the mist caressed her willing skin.

Soon she was moaning and gasping, stretching her body back with her arms gripping the grass so her cheeks caught the sunrise; bucking as she rubbed back against the stick, all the time the cool presence of the mist engulfing her.

Finally she could take it no longer and gripping the stick between her thighs and pinching her nipples she came mewling and growling, the mist taking her screams with its cold white kiss.

She lay quietly for a while curled up on the moss. Then the mist retreated before the sunrise, and dressing, she made her way, smiling and stroking the rough tree trunks, back up the hill to the campsite to seek the warmth of her partner.

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