textfiles/sex/EROTICA/P/perfect.txt

Archive-name: perfect

This story involves female self-pleasuring. Constructive crticism is 
greatly appreciated.


                  A Perfect Moment

Copyright 1994, K. McCall

     It's a hot, cloudless, June day in northern California. We've been
whitewater rafting on one the most gorgeous, sparkling blue rivers on
Earth. It's been exhilarating and loads of fun, and just a bit physically
enduring. We've been through a multitude of large rapids, and everyone's
jazzed that we have another day to go!

     Our Captain has found a picture-perfect beach to setup camp for the
evening. Everyone pitched-in to unload gear from the boats. Beginning to
relax, we stake claim to our personal sleeping areas and delight in changing
into dry clothes! There's still an hour or two, of sun before it's eclipsed by
the lip of the canyon we're in.

     The kitchen area is being set-up by a couple of hungry crew
members. The makings of a campfire begin. Crackling kindling and the
aroma of smoldering dry twigs rides on the gentle breeze. I bury my feet
in the warm sand, and watch the others unpacking dry-bags, erecting tents
and inflating air mattresses. My mind drifts off, reflecting upon the many
exciting events of the day. A boat that flipped in the big rapid, spilling its
crew along the shores. The wonderful lunch at the waterfall and the hike
up the side stream. Beautiful bodies draped in spandex, wetsuits, and well
. . . sometimes nothing at all. It was a day to remember. I'm glad Sarah
twisted my arm to come along on this trip!

     The distant roar of a rapid is hypnotizing, it sounds like a Jumbo Jet
revving-up in the distance. An Osprey soars high overhead along the
canyon ledge in search of a salmon or trout. My gaze drifts downstream.
The river makes two small bends, each one with the white color
characteristic of a rapid, before curving sharply to the right, out of sight.
Even though it's late in the canyon, the sun is still hot. It warms me to the
bones, as I sit, high-up on the beach watching.

     My trance is broken by laughter. A few people have grouped in the
kitchen area around the campfire. They're all drinking and carrying on.
Everyone else seems to have found their own unique little areas to make
their homes for the evening. I notice that my yellow tent has already been
put up. It's in a beautiful little spot just above its own small beach.
Protected from view by a large, almost house-sized, rounded boulder just
upstream.

     A pair of shorts, tank top and a towel, are lying on the tiny beach.
The water is being ruffled. Someone is bathing just offshore, but I can't
really see. I know it must be Sarah. Who else would have put up the tent?
We had planned on being tent-mates for the evening.
     
     A moment later, she steps out of the water, onto the beach. She
know's she's sheltered from view, at least by most areas, by the large
boulder. She takes her time. Oblivious to anyone and everything. Her short
cropped hair is matted to her head from the swim. Bending to pick up the
towel, she gently pats herself dry. It's a truly beautiful sight. The rays of
sunlight beaming from the opposite side of the canyon. She turns around,
her back now toward me, to face into the sunlight. The water is beading
on her skin, glistening and sparkling in the sunlight. I know how she feels.
In my mind I'm there with her. I can feel the sun irradiating her naked torso
as she dabs herself off. 

     Dry now, she stands facing the light, towel draped around her neck,
allowing the rays to warm her. She stretches, arching her back and
spreading her arms wide like an entire body yawning. Relaxing, she turns,
shuffling her feet in the sand as she strolls the short distance up the beach.
Dropping to her knees at the door of the tent, she tosses her clothes inside,
falling forward onto her outstretched arms into the tent. She rolls over on
her back and brushes the sand from her feet before pulling them inside.

     The sun has now descended low enough that the rays are striking
the tent from the opposite side where I sit. The thin nylon tent is made
translucent by the strength of the sun. I can see every nuance of Sarah's
outline inside the tent. Sitting up, she pulls a skin-tight tank top over her
head and down to her waist. She folds her arms and rubs her shoulders, no
doubt a bit tight from the days activities. Her torso twisting left and right,
releasing muscular tension in her back. She stretches.

     Dropping onto her elbow, she fumbles through a bag. What she pulls
out is indistinct, until I observe her motions. Lying on her back, she raises
her legs allowing her knees to bend. The arches of her feet, and upwards
tilt of her toes clearly visible. Just like the rest of her, her feet are uniquely
beautiful. Muscular from daily aerobics, with spectacularly high arches
accentuating the natural curvature of her soles.

     What she has pulled from her bag becomes obvious as she leans
forward to pull them on over her feet. Stretching the material to pull them
up and over her thighs, and raising her rear just high enough to slide them
on. I hear the elastic waistband snap, but wonder if maybe that wasn't just
my imagination. She relaxes on her back, one knee raised, the other drops
to her side. It looks so comfortable, I wish I were doing the same. A few
deep breaths, and she lies still, relaxing.

      While gazing at the tent, my mind drifts back to the conversation
around the campfire that I can just barely make out. I'm almost as relaxed
as Sarah as I see her hands reach up and rub her eyes. She stirs a bit, and
massages her neck and shoulders. Her chest rises with a deep sigh that I
can almost hear. From her shoulders, her hands slide down the middle of
her chest and clasp around her midriff. 

     I can't help but admire her physique. So supple and lithe. A small
delicate frame with petite, yet nicely formed breasts. Even though I'm
viewing a silhouette, I can clearly discern her perky little erect nipples. My
stomach is telling me it's time to eat.

     Just then, her hands unclasp from around her waist. They slide up
her torso, and she pushes upward on both her breasts. I'm entranced as
she begins massaging them both. Firmly and slowly. The thin material of
her tank-top stretching with her motions. Pushing up with both hands, she
reaches the full extent that she can push, and captures both her nipples
between the fingers of each hand. Gently rolling each between her thumb
and forefingers. The femininity of her twisting and tugging is beautiful
beyond words. Both hands now begin concentrating on the breast closest
to me. One hand massaging the entire globe while the other twists and
pulls on the nipple.

     As she lies back, one hand flows down past her stomach. The
silhouette disappears between her legs. I can see the small motions of her
forearm. Shuffling her stance a bit, her legs spread slightly to allow better
access to her self-pleasuring. Her forearm motions becoming more forceful
now. The hand from between her legs reappears, joining her other hand to
push her top up and over her breasts. The top crumples underneath her
chin. Both her hands begin rapidly pushing up on her breasts, then tugging
and twisting each of her nipples, which have lengthened to what surely
must be their full extent.

     She pushes up hard with both hands on one breast, bending her
head down toward the delicate tip. Her tongue darts out just enough to
swath her nipple. I can see her lips purse blowing gently upon it. I'm
mesmerized by the sight.

     Both her knees now raised, she pushes gently against her feet,
raising her cheeks just high enough for a few rays of sunlight to streak
underneath framing their taut form. She diverts one of her active hands to
slide down her stomach, pausing momentarily to catch the elastic
waistband of her panties. Pushing up harder with her legs, only her
shoulder blades are left touching the ground. Her hand glides beneath the
panties. The motions of her forearm and wrist, moving in an obviously
pleasurable fashion. The sun has set even further now, the rays coming
even more directly through the thin yellow ripstop nylon tent shell.

     The hand between her legs is clearly discernible even underneath he
panties and it's beginning to move more vigorously now. Her motions are
clear. First, sliding along the length of what must, by now be, a very wet
pair of lips. Then, the entire wrist bends to insert more fully several of her
fingers deeply inside her. A few forceful motions ensue. Her hand returns,
the outline of all her fingers visible beneath the panties, stretching them
taut.

I'm tempted to scurry down the hill. And for a moment, I see myself doing
exactly that. I could offer my assistance. I'd love to help her please herself.
To help her over the brink! But, I hold back. I realize that she would be
startled, and for her, right now, it is a perfect moment. One that I should
respect. I resign myself to my own very pleasurable viewing.

     She begins making small circling motions around her magic area up
front, her hips beginning to buck and gyrate ever so slightly. The other
hand reaches beneath her and disappears between her cheeks. Both hands
begin making faster and faster repetitions. I wonder which of her tender
areas the hand she's reached behind her is pleasuring. Her hips are now
pumping up and down, up and down. She's very near! The hand in the
front of her panties moving frantically, back and forth, round and round,
faster and faster! Even from my viewpoint, I can see the muscles in her
legs tensing. Readying for an explosive relief. Pushing up hard with her
legs, her feet arched to their full extent, only her toes are touching the
ground. The tension evident, even in her feet.

     Her body's silhouette begins to twitch and convulse, the gyrations
turning into waves of spasms. The fabric of the small tent is ruffled along
with her motions. I can see her chest expand with each gasp she takes!
The hand between her cheeks reappears, reaching up and tugging violently
on her nipple, stretching her entire breast well beyond its natural length.
Her hips thrusting against her fingers. One more wave of muscular jitters
and I faintly hear a short whimper and sigh! Absolute poetry in motion, if
there ever was!

     Her hips drop back onto the ground. Hand now motionless beneath
her panties. As I watch, I'm happy for her. Happy that she has achieved
her satisfaction. I relish with her, her own relaxing state that she is now in.
The last rays from the sun are blocked by the canyon wall and her perfect
silhouette turns to a blurry indistinct form.

     The campfire is popping loudly now. I hear billowing laughter. A
waft of coffee drifts my way. Sarah's feet appear from the door of the
tent. She steps out, and with a slight spring in her step, heads toward the
campfire. Ah, the evening has just begun!
          
Copyright 1994, K. McCall