Going Fishing

The parking lot of the Outdoor Store in Fayetteville, Arkansas, looked like a yuppie convention must have been going inside. There were glistening mini-vans and shinny SUV’s everywhere, all lined up side by side, color by color, suburban driver by suburban driver. I had a few days and was hoping to spend them backpacking in the Ozark Mountains somewhere along the Buffalo River. I had all my gear but had been thinking about trying some fly fishing for some of the area’s trout. Thus, my trip to the yuppie collection at the Outdoor Store.

I had backpacked, canoed, rafted, rock climbed, and hunted most of the area but never fished it. The cute kid in the store, surely a Arkansas college student, was really very helpful. Her smile and clean spiffy sandals were fun and she even knew something about the equipment. I ended up with a moderately expensive fishing rig for my backpack and bid her goodbye.

My plan was to drive out of the Fayetteville area only so far. I would park the rental car in a National Forest I knew and hike in maybe fifteen miles to spot on the river I had used for a campsite on a canoe float trip some years ago. It was a great place to camp unobtrusively. The river banks were nice sized but there was a long river gravel beach on one side with trees just on its edge. My tent in the trees wouldn’t be seen or bothered. No one would know I was there unless I wanted them to. A great way to unwind alone for three or four days.

I got the car parked in a safe spot with a note to the park ranger on the dash. The hike into the park was easy and I found my spot without hassle. It was just as I remembered it. Wonderful. The first night yielded a clear sky full of stars and a forest full of night sounds. It left me wondering how I could always do this, live this way. The next morning was a clear and bright spring morning. All my cooking stuff was put away a little after noon. I pulled on some khaki shorts, a tank top, and some Teva sandals before settling in to begin serious fishing, or serious enough to say it was fishing. I had brought along a good pair of binoculars, made by Nikon, on the off chance I might see something interesting. Birds or deer or bobcat or wild boar was what I was thinking, not necessarily what I ended up seeing. So I took the binoculars down to the water with me.

To be honest, I could never really fish worth a shit. I fooled around with the gear for awhile, trying to cast, trying to be serious, but I finally gave up for the most part and began sipping Wild Turkey and scanning the trees with my binoculars just to watch what was moving. This is the good life, I remember telling myself.

I heard her before I saw her. It’s that way most times in the woods. She was running happily toward me on a trail on the other side of the river. She was a striking woman, short black hair, medium height and build. I think her eyes might have been blue. She was wearing blue jeans and a man’s long sleeve white shirt. It took me a moment to notice the white shirt was unbuttoned completely. And she wasn’t wearing a damned bra. Her breasts were medium sized and firm enough to not be troubling as she ran. She was smiling, laughing maybe, definitely happy.

She stopped on the river bank just opposite where I sat on the river gravel with my bottle of Wild Turkey and my trusty binoculars. I smiled and waved. She smiled and waved back without doing a damn thing about her shirt. She turned and I could tell she was talking to someone else coming down the trail. It was a man. I don’t know why but I got up from where I was sitting and moved back into the trees behind the gravel beach. She watched me all the way. Then she turned and hugged the man who had arrived with a picnic basket, blanket, and big camera case.

They seemed to have gotten to where they had intended to come.

The man was black headed like the woman. He was taller than she by several inches with a slender, muscular build. He also wore blue jeans but with a light blue t-shirt. He worked steadily to spread the

blanket near the edge of the bank, open the picnic basket, and begin to spread the things from inside. She seemed nervous and anxious at the same time, happily pacing the bank while he worked. She finally made an exaggerated gesture with her arms, almost as if to say, “Come on.” He responded by setting the basket aside and opening the camera case. She clapped her hands and began to bounce up and down with anticipation.

As the man pulled up the camera and aimed it at her I watched in pleasant amazement as she lowered the shirt to her waist. She was topless as she turned and looked my way on the other side of the river. I assumed the man was clicking away, talking to her, but I somehow felt her attention was directed toward me. She was posing for the camera, sure, but I truly believe she was also posing for me.

He moved around her with the camera, preparing other shots, encouraging her, I imagined. With my binoculars I could see her face well, her breasts well, the special personality of her nipples exposed outside on a spring afternoon. I watched holding my breath as she unfastening her blue jeans, dropped the shirt, and pushed the jeans down to her ankles. She wore nothing underneath. I think I heard the man whoop an intimate cheer but I was truly focused on her ass, the curve of her hips and upper legs, the look of her black pubic hair.

She seemed to be pleased, having fun, as she moved around the man, striking poses. She was completely naked except for white socks as she stretched out on her stomach across a big flat rock. I imagined the chill of the rock on her stomach and breasts. I looked closely at the full round curve of her ass, wishing I was in position to see what was between her legs.

She must have read my mind.

She stood and moved to a large log, straddled it facing me, smiled at me, I think, and leaned back exposing her pussy to me and the camera. With my binoculars I could make out the shape of her pussy, the heavy lips amidst the black hair, the prominent hoop over her clit. I was looking and cussing myself for leaving my Canon with the telephoto lens at home.

The man put down the camera and stepped to her side where she sat on the log. He held out his hand and she took it, rising into his arms.

I was sure that neither of them were thinking about what was in the picnic basket.

They kissed. She stretched up to him standing on her tiptoes. They broke the embrace and turned. She began to undress him by pulling his T-shirt up over his head. She knelt in front of him and unfastened his jeans. I watched with my binoculars as she pushed his jeans and underwear down in one move. His cock was hard before she took it in her hand. I think she actually positioned him sideways to me before she took his cock in her mouth. She had him perfectly position for me to watch her mouth work over the head of cock, her lips stretched wide, the hollow of her cheek, the way her tongue moved over the underside of him when she held him and stroked him in front of her face.

Then she released his cock and stood. He looked to mount some kind of protest before she began to move him to the log she had sat on. She position him again, this time for him to sit facing me. She moved between us, standing with her back to me and leaned over, legs spread wide. I could see her pussy and ass, her breasts hanging under her, and her hand wrapped around his shaft holding him in her mouth. She reached between her legs with her left hand and began to move her fingers over her clit. Occasionally, a finger would dip into her pussy before returning to her clit. I watched from a distance as her lips seemed to thicken and move under her fingers. She held me mesmerized as she moved her hand and ran it behind her, down her back to the crack of her ass. I watched the tip of her middle finger disappear into the pucker of her ass for an instant. Then the hand was back between her legs working steadily on her clit.

I couldn’t see but she must have released his cock as she rose to stand in front of him. Her legs were still spread as she eased toward him and straddled his lap. I watched her grip him and ease herself down on him. The tip of his cock bluntly probed her pussy before the head disappeared inside her. She eased down on him with purpose taking him all, completely.

Alternately, she placed her feet flat on the log beside him, squatting over him. Then she began to fuck him with long, smooth strokes. Her ass moved up and down with purpose and conviction. She was fucking him, fucking him any damn way she pleased, and she was showing me just how well she could do it.

I was as surprised as her lover when she moved up and off his cock. She stepped back and turned, facing me this time. She eased back over him again placing only one foot on the log this time. She reached down and surprised me when she placed his cock at her rosebud. I watched as she eased down slowly taking his cock deep in her ass. She leaned back into him and began to pump him. Her hand came to her pussy and rubbed it feverishly.

I thought for a moment her eyes were closed but they weren’t. They were looking at me, looking at me directly, telling me how proud she was to be a woman, how proud she was to be sensual and exciting. She had me totally convinced of what she was saying.

Her lover fumbled around trying to hold her breasts, trying to participate in some way other than to just receive the fucking of his life, but it didn’t seem to matter. She was in control and she absolutely loved it. She glowed as she showed me the cock in her ass and the wet lips of her pussy spread wide by her fingers. She glowed as her breasts bouncing with her movement. She glowed as her tongue ran seductively over her lips. She glowed as she did for the camera, only this time it was for me, just me.

I think she came. It was hard to tell exactly when. But I had no doubt when her lover came. I heard him howl all the way across the river. She seemed to hold my eyes has she leaned forward to let his cock slip from her. Her hands came up to hold her breasts, for me again, I thought. And then she turned to him, ministering to him it seemed as he melted off the log.

They embraced and began to gather their clothes and get dressed. I’m not sure why they gathered up the picnic basket, blanket, and camera gear to leave, but they did.

The man started down the trail in front of her, heading in the direction from which they had come.

She turned to me for a moment and gave me a slight wave. Then she blew me a kiss before turning and running after him.

She left me wondering why the fuck I was spending four days camping alone.