The Water HolebyJustmyimagination©
Moving at a slow walk, his horse was restless. He was deep in the brush country. He was in no hurry since the pain had stopped. Might be a bad sign. Served him right for catchin' arrows, his sergeant had told him. Reckon I'll try not to next time. The crusty old sergeant couldn't get any closer to saying thank you. The arrow most surely would have penetrated his skull. But the ranger blocked it with his hand. At least it was easy to pull out. Even so, his company sent him back to get it looked at. He could hardly refuse since the last skirmish seemed to be decisive. The Commanche raiders were decimated and what was left of them were high-tailing it back across the Red River.
He could hear water as he dodged the low branches and hanging vines of a thicket. His horse was thirsty, as was he, and the hand needed cleaning, probably. Soundlessly, man and horse picked a trail down a hill toward the noisy stream. A rocky ledge rose upstream from him as he neared, and he found an old game trail at its base. He couldn't see the stream through the thicket. The ground broke downward, away from the ledge to more level ground twenty feet below. He made his way down, angling toward the stream. He just caught a glimpse of the water as a massive bramble hedge forced him to move parallel to the stream as he reached the bottom of the stream. His luck. He figured he must have chosen the very worst path through this mess.
Then he stopped his horse suddenly, peering through the dense undergrowth over the hedge at the pool at the bottom of the hill. Rapids formed as the stream tumbled down the rocky ledge and hill. The water was clear and fresh. He needed to water his horse, but he sat motionless on his mount, which obediently froze, as he had done on dozens of frontier scouting trips as they neared enemy camps. The horse knew that a person was near. The ranger cast his steely gaze across the pool, well hidden in the thicket.
She was wearing a light cotton linen dress that buttoned down the front and touched the curves of her body with delicate simple grace. Her long red hair shined in the sunlight and her loosely bound pony tail danced around her head and shoulders as she carefully made her way to a rock on the edge of the pool. The normally well-mannered ranger was spellbound. Frozen in his saddle, he would not make his presence known. He quietly watched her sit down on the rock. Her ponytail swayed in front of her as she leaned over. She pulled her dress up to her thighs, dangled her feet in the water and reclined on her hands.
He admired the shape of her well-toned calves. He was not used to seeing a woman's legs. She straightened them in front of her, lifting her feet, dripping out of the water. So much beautiful, smooth skin. He sighed. She relaxed her feet and sat up as she raised her arms to loosen her long tresses behind her. Her breasts rose with her arms under the now taut fabric of her thin dress, embracing their smooth roundness.
Her shape was flawless, from her shoulders, down her sides, around her waist, over her hips and down her legs; it was pure beauty to him. And then her hair exploded in freedom as it poured down around her like brilliant sunset-colored champagne. He dared not breathe lest the vision evaporate before him.
She lifted her feet onto the rock and stood, reaching for the buttons on her dress. One by one, they were released, opening the garment down her chest. Just as the ranger glimpsed soft round skin, she turned toward an outstretched tree branch behind her. With her back to him, she finished unbuttoning her dress. She bent over for the bottom ones, allowing the dress to outline her smooth buttocks. Then standing relaxed, she raised her hands from the elbows and slipped the dress off her shoulders, dropping it around her ankles. Silently, the ranger gasped.
He had always been shy around girls. Even in the settlements, when his company chased off a band of Commanches that had laid siege to a whole town for days, the grateful women and admiring girls who came to express their heartfelt gratitude, high admiration and even romantic interest caused him to shrink in embarrassment. But this was different. Though hypnotized, an electric surge coursed through his body. He had no idea that the sight of a beautiful nude woman could be so rigidly gripping. But he was not only seeing her. He was experiencing her.
The surging sensation he felt multiplied as she turned around, facing him, and crouched to pick up her dress. He shuddered, watching her hang her dress on the tree and happily inhale the clean air. To him, her simple easy motions flowed like an elegant dance. Every muscle was laid bare before him, flexing and relaxing with each movement of her body. She was free and comfortable, peacefully at one with her surroundings.
She strode around the rock to the edge of the pool and slowly lowered herself down the steep bank into the water. The ranger watched the joy exude from her as she crouched in the shallow water and relished the sensation of the water on her bare skin. She then stood, glistening thigh deep on a submerged rock ledge. He had read about mermaids, but his imagination had been incapable of conjuring an image so sweet and desirable. Her neck, collarbone, shoulders, tummy, thighs, those wonderful breasts and hips, and that dazzling spectacular bright red hair, all over, stunned him.
She dove into the deep part of the pool, splashing, swimming and treading water. He watched her skinny-dipping, enjoying herself in spite of being by herself.
The horse understood the danger of spying close in to a Commanche war camp. He was able to control his thirst and his restlessness. To him, spying was a matter of life or death.
But now to the ranger, it was only life. It was abundant life as he saw the woman frolicking in the water. Eventually she swam over to the rock where she had gotten in and rose from the water. She stood dripping wet, with the water lapping at her shapely thighs. She reached for the bar of soap she had left nearby and began producing lather, generously spreading it across her body. The suds slowly crept down over her chest, ribs and thighs, and flowed into and around her pubic island. She slowly stroked the smooth soap over her waist, up her ribs, between her breasts to her shoulders and neck, more for herself than just to clean her body. She raised her face with her eyes closed and lips slightly parted. She enjoyed her own touch, down her abdomen, down her legs and up her thighs, across her furry patch of pubic hair and up her tummy to her breasts. There her hands lingered.
Again, he sighed. He could not imagine the feel of her breasts in his hands, yet he longed for a touch. Clad only in bubbles, she swayed as she caressed, rocking in a slow dreamy trance. With her fingers, she began flicking and pinching her nipples, squeezing and gently pulling them in the slick soapy foam. He closed his own eyes in her pleasure until a soft moan drifted to his ears awakening his attention again. Another moan escaped her open lips, louder and longer. The ranger swallowed.
She smiled and giggled as she suddenly slipped into the water again, glancing at the rapid to her right, just upstream. The foamy bubbles that clung to her skin slipped away, dissolving her only attire as the cool stream engulfed her warm, warm body. She swam over to a rock jutting through the water's surface at the base of the little rapid. Small bursts of sparkling white water poured over its smooth surface. She pulled up from the stream next to it and leaned over to the rock, throwing her feet upon it. For a moment she steadied herself on the rock, standing bent over with her bottom facing the ranger, with her legs apart, revealing to him more than he knew was there.
She sat down with her legs draped over the downstream side of the rock. Her wet skin glistened in the sun as she looked down at her own body and embraced her bosom. The water poured over her thighs as she parted her legs. She stroked her inner thighs from her knees to the very tops of her legs and up the front of her body. She began stroking her breasts as before, wiggling on the rock for extra stimulation from its rough hard surface. As she regained her previous level of arousal, she slid her hand down her abdomen, over her vulva and massaged.
Under the ranger's watchful eyes, she inserted a finger and touched herself. Through her careful manipulations, she was able to sustain an even higher level of pleasure for a long time, which she did with blissful patience, adding fingers to embellish her sensations.
She squealed with delight as she removed her hand from between her legs and spun herself around on the rock to face the oncoming stream. With her hands braced behind her on the rock, she slowly opened her thighs once more, this time to the pulsing thrusts of pressurized water. She positioned her hips so the water hit her on just the right spot in just the right way. She moaned loudly as the intense sensations flowed into her. She gasped and flinched as the water channeled between her open legs throbbing into her sensitive point of pleasure. The moans became louder and closer together as she quickly allowed herself to wash away in waves of pleasure that caused her to jump and thrash on the rock. Her deep moans were finally punctuated with a loud reckless shriek of ecstatic release.
She closed her legs and slumped forward in fulfillment as the ranger stared with his jaw wide open. He sat in silent amazement as she slid off the rock with a contented smile, swam over to the bank, arose from the water, and turned back toward the stream, facing him again. The tightness in his crotch was unbearable, but he would not move as long as he could drink in the beauty and intimacy of the moment. She still stood there facing him, naked and natural, joyfully content, totally comfortable with her body and herself. His heart went after her as she slowly turned and raised herself, dripping from the stream. She gathered her dress and carried it back up the trail and out of sight.
Because of the thick brush and steep banks, it was over two hundred yards and thirty minutes before the ranger could ford the stream with his horse. He tried to pick his way through the saplings and briars on the other side without shredding his horse's legs. Finally he broke through to a narrow trail wide enough for the horse. He wasn't surprised to find that it soon led to a small cabin.
He stopped his horse and gazed. He was desperate to see her again but paralyzed in his fears and insecurities. If he saw her and talked to her, she might suspect what he had just done. She couldn't be happy about being spied upon, especially doing what she had done. He felt sure to be scorned. But an unfamiliar hunger had been awakened in him. It would not be refused.
"Hello inside," he respectfully called, announcing his presence.
Soon the door opened. She was even more gorgeous up close. She was now wearing the linen dress, and he knew she was clean.
"Texas Ranger, ma'am."
He spoke with clear gentle authority. His piercing eyes, good horse and firm courteous manner revealed no guile. He carried a shotgun, rifle, two colts and a bowie knife. It was no lie.
A warm flushed smile graced her face. "What can I do for you, ranger?"
"Need some water, ma'am."
She smiled. The same sensuous contentment he saw earlier flashed across her face. "Got plenty of good water." Really good, she thought. "Just head down the trail out back to the creek. There's a real nice spot down there." Very nice.
"What's wrong with your hand?"
"Caught an arrow."
She moved quickly to him. "Get down and let me look at it."
Having worked with a doctor for a couple of years, she had treated worse wounds. But an arrow through the hand was serious. She knew the dangers of infection better than most people did, including the ranger. She was well-trained and competent as she herded him to her table with professional urgency. She threw out the bloody bandanna he had wrapped his hand with and cleaned the wound carefully. She knew it had to hurt. But he didn't flinch.
He was close to her and she was touching him. He could smell her hair and feel her soft breath as she attended his wound. Now he was glad he had caught the arrow. Her friendly chatter was a glorious song resonating within his breast.
She helped her Daddy build this little place before he was killed in the war for Independence from Mexico. Mama died when she was little. Consumption. Rangers made this part of the country pretty safe and she couldn't see herself living anywhere else, she said. She raised some livestock and chickens, selling butter and eggs in town. She worked with the doctor there, too. It was harder living out of town. She could move if she wanted to but she liked living out here. Her Daddy had found such a lovely spot on the creek that she didn't want to leave. No, she had never married.
He was courteous, polite and respectful, but quiet. She was barely able to draw out of him that he was twenty-nine, and never married either. She could see he was strong and self-controlled. How could a man go through cleaning a wound like that without flinching? He never even complained about the pain. He would not have even bothered her with his injury if she hadn't asked. His eyes were piercing but gentle. When he looked at her, she felt as if this man knew her more intimately than he betrayed. It was as if he saw more than just her eyes and hair, but all of her, without undressing her with his eyes. It was as if he knew her to the core. It made her feel exposed vulnerable and a little fearful. Yet his gracious, considerate manner made her feel safe. A pleasant surge of moist warmth rose beneath her stomach. She was intrigued and eager to know more, if he would stay.
She sat closely, touching his side and arm and had leaned forward to work on his hand. When she finished, she looked up at him. They were face to face. They could see little more than each other's eyes and they could feel each other's breath. For a moment, they froze as each absorbed the tension of restrained interest.
Then, the ranger did as he would have done in a confrontation with hostiles, seizing the initiative, taking a gamble. Perhaps it was high risk, but he sensed something was there to make it worthwhile. He leaned slowly forward and kissed her gently on the lips.
He stopped, and they resumed their intimate confrontation. He searched her surprised face for some sign of response. A smile, a laugh, even a slap in the face would have told him what he wanted to know. But the expression on her face confused and worried him. He had ruined with boldness his chances with a woman whose desirability intimidated him. He could not have ignored his attraction to her, but now he was wishing he could have done something else to communicate his interest. Then she kissed him, and her soft lips told him he had done nothing unwelcome.
"I need to give you a poultice," she said. "Go get your water and I'll get it together."
"If you can stay, I can rustle you up some food. Why don't you clean up while you're down there? Not to be offensive, but you've been rangin' for weeks, haven't you?"
Blushing, he nodded.
"There's some soap on the back porch."
The soap was still damp. It was impossible not to think about what she had done with it earlier. The trail was more of a tunnel through the brush. The entrance to the tunnel was overgrown with the soft tangled tufts of wild grape with colorful spots of flowering vines. The ground was worn slick and smooth. Soft moss grew around it and thick vegetation lined the inner walls. The soft leaves and moss were dripping wet from the thick humidity within. He hesitated. It was just a trail, but it led to a special spot that to him represented the inner reaches of her desire. And yet, it was inevitable that he go there to be cleansed, purified and made whole. With shy determination, he penetrated the soft smooth dampened channel to the flowing stream within, and the rock where he had witnessed her privacy.
As he removed his clothes he could not shake the sensation that he was sharing this moment with her. His imagination would not let go of the nude, dream-like vision he had seen earlier. And because of that, the rock was not the only thing down there that was hard.
It took a while for him to wash his clothes. As he hung them on the same branch that held her light dress, his firmness had not diminished. Lathering up, he remembered her hands touching herself not just to clean, but with self-intimacy. He found himself doing the same. As he cleaned his rigid member the electric surges he had felt through his body returned. He got more soap and replayed the whole dream in his mind.
* * *
She got a meal ready, despite her distractions. The sweet warmth between her legs was not as gentle now. Her hand kept reaching down there, fondling herself through the fabric of her dress. Oh, how she would love to cast it aside and find her pleasure as she had found it in the creek this morning. But there was no telling when the ranger would come back up. How could his presence do this to her? Was she still worked up from her earlier fantasies? Now she had a face on her fantasy that was real and outside her cabin down at her creek bathing.
She had never wanted to throw herself at anyone, never was really tempted. As she thought about him, though, she felt her body becoming more sensitive. She could feel the light dress she wore against her stiffening nipples and the most inconsequential drafts blew like pleasant breezes up her dress. She wondered how awkward she appeared trying to control herself.
Here she was. Dinner ready. Poultice ready. No Ranger. As she walked down the trail, she thought, surely he's had enough time to . . . maybe not. A wicked smile streaked across her face. She quickened her pace.
She found him in the middle of the creek with his back toward her. He was lean, healthy and well toned. He had a nice round butt and a strong back and thighs. And he was still wet and covered with soap. A hand was gliding over his chest, stomach, neck and shoulders in a gentle sensuous circle. His other hand was reaching between his legs, barely moving in front of him. His face was turned up with his eyes closed in a quiet trance. The sight gave her pause.
Subconsciously, her own hands brushed her torso, sliding up to her breasts, teasing the hardened nipples through her dress. She, too, liked the feel of wet slick soapy skin . . . a lot.
"I was getting worried about you, ranger," she gently teased.
Startled, he turned quickly. With a small gasp, she giggled. She was not prepared to see him in his aroused condition. He could not hide. Modesty was lost.
"You seem to be doing just fine." She hadn't hoped for as much as she saw when she was sneaking up on him. She swung her weight onto one leg and relaxed the other. The linen dress rippled gently in the breeze. She clutched her other arm in front of her, framing her bosom. Her hand rested on the soft curve of her hip and thigh. Her head tilted slightly forward and to the side allowing her loose hair to hang beside her face, pouring beside her round breast. She raised her hand and stroked a wisp of hair over her ear, slowly shifting her weight as she looked at him with a not so innocent grin. Her stance and her subtle movement did nothing to relieve the pressure between his legs.
"Your dinner's ready," she said softly as she turned in display, allowing him to see her own shape. Then with sudden boldness, she stopped with her legs a little apart and turned her shoulders to look back at him. An arm dangled before her butt and her hair poured down her back as she looked over her shoulder.
"I fried chicken for you. You're gonna like my legs and thighs. But I want you to try my breasts." Then she took his clothes and sauntered away.