Stepping forward so that my toes just overhung the edge, I gazed at my reflected sex in the water below, something rarely seen from that angle. I spread my legs for a better view, trailed a fingertip along my labia, felt my nips stiffen a little more, felt my tummy tighten.
I was enjoying myself, thought I looked pretty hot and almost regretted not being able to share the sight with somebody appreciative. Smiling a bit, I let myself daydream for a moment. If there had been somebody watching me, would they be turned on, too?
And where would they have been looking from? I looked around, examined the trail and the foliage on either side of the little stream.
Yes. There. If somebody had been watching, they — no, he , it had to be a he — he would be right over there, behind those low bushes on the far side.
I turned towards the bushes, smiled brightly, waved with one hand. Raising my hands over my head, I spun slowly in place before him, stopped facing him, lowered my hands to my shoulders and let them fall, running them lightly, slowly over my boobs, tummy, pussy and legs. I stopped with my hands outstretched but pointing inwards, as if presenting myself for his inspection.
I held the pose for a moment, then broke into an open laugh at my fantasy. I blew my imaginary voyeur a Marilyn kiss and started walking again. I didn’t bother looking behind the bushes.
Three minutes later, I was at the pond; two minutes later and I was copying the number ’28’ on my map.
I was doing fine. I was delighted with the game, the challenge — and the almost non-stop erotic windup. I would so definitely have to thank Erin when I got home.
I was also hot, dusty and thirsty. I had a gulp of water from my sack, then looked hopefully at the pond. To my delight, the bottom seemed to be sand rather than muck. I sat down by the water’s edge, slipped off shoes and socks and left them by my bag as I gingerly waded in.
I was surprised at how warm the water was. It made sense, thinking about it; there were no mountains to provide glacier melt, the sun was high and the pond shallow. It was wonderful. I couldn’t spare the time for a proper swim, but allowed myself to slip under the surface, shaking my head in the nimbus of red hair surrounding me.
I surfaced and floated on my back for a minute, enjoying the breeze on toes and breasts. I rose and combed water out of my hair with my fingers as I walked back to shore. I could have used a towel, but the dip had done my morale a lot of good. I stripped the water off my feet as best I could with my hands, dried between my toes with the tops of my socks. I sat in the sun for a couple of minutes, taking the time to enjoy the warmth while I put on some more sunblock and let my feet dry as much as possible.
Looking at the map, I became a bit concerned about the next leg. My hand-drawn markings put my third control point to the northwest of where I was, just beyond a series of close-together elevation lines on the map, and that indicated a very steep slope . To be honest, I wasn’t all that keen on rock-climbing in my altogether. The option however, as always, seemed to be a long detour.
The map did indicate a trail going up and that gave me some hope. I oriented the map on the ground, opened the compass and laid it on the map so that one edge ran from the pond to the bottom end of the trail. I took a moment to turn the central housing of the compass until the red arrow inside coincided with the needle. With that, I was set — so long as I kept the needle centred inside the arrow, I’d be heading in the right direction. It’s never quite that easy in practice, but I was confident.
I took the pencil and drew a line on the map for good measure. I looked around, hoping to fix the pleasant spot in my memory, then pulled on shoes, socks and sack before heading out through the leafy sunshine, compass in front of me.
The slope — more of a cliff, actually — became visible through the trees well before I reached its base. The ground grew steeper, more littered with rocks and chunks of stone. When I got close enough, I could see that the rise was indeed just short of vertical. I saw the path and moved towards it and even that required some scrambling. I took the time to be careful as I moved.
The map showed the bluff to be about fifty or sixty meters high, but, from where I was standing, the trail looked to be in fairly good shape. I normally don’t like heights at all, but it was clear that I could either do some climbing or add a couple of hours to my trip.
Up it would be.
I soon found my head emerging above the tops of the surrounding trees. I paused, looked around. It was an impressive vista. I could see for miles.
I started climbing again and paused. The bare cliff offered a fine view — for everybody.
I again scanned the land below me, didn’t see anybody. But, hey, there was certainly a busload of kinky hikers out there. Foresters, birdwatchers and other normal people were on top of that. I thought about it and, despite the height, grinned at that familiar glow inside me.
That’s what this game is all about, Kat!
The trail was narrow and steep, but there were lots of handholds. I clung to the whitish-grey stone, let my legs drive me up and didn’t ever look down. I was in pretty good shape, but my thighs were soon feeling the burn.
I stopped halfway up for a breather and took a cautious look around. There was no cover, none whatever. Anybody down below was getting an eyeful. Well, it was mine to give and theirs to enjoy and anybody wanting to give me grief would have to catch me first.
I gave a happy snicker, made sure of my grip and wiggled my butt at the world. Cliff-twerking was a new move, but I figured it had potential.
A broad smile on my face, I started my slow way up again, my tanned body as conspicuous against the limestone as a fly crawling up a bare plastered wall.
I was as turned on, as horny as I’d ever been. This had been the best day ever! I seriously thought of stopping and rubbing one out while I clung to the cliff face, but common sense had the veto. I compromised, waited until I got a firm grip on a bush, then turned outwards and stroked myself for a few seconds.
My fingers swept over my sex, dipped into my entrance, pulled back over my clit. And again, giving myself just ten or fifteen seconds to tease myself and any watchers. My nipples were almost glowing when I let my hand fall away. Sanity vetoed an indignant objection from below my waist.
I hoped my hypothetical audience had enjoyed themselves.
I took a deep, ragged breath and kept moving.
My grasping hands found level ground and I was at the top. I heaved myself over the edge, heart thumping with excitement. A major tree grew there and I clung to it like a drowning girl to a lifesaver. I turned to stand in profile to whoever was below and kicked up one leg behind me like some Vargas poster, held the pose for a few seconds before stepping back, facing the trees and people below and standing in triumph, legs spread wide and both arms waving over my head. I felt warm wind across my skin, felt a coolness on my honeyed lower lips. I gave an eagle’s shrill shriek of ecstasy, wished I could be louder.