Chapter 1
The lad was going fishing the first time he came upon her. Trodding toward his favorite fishing hole, he had heard sounds, forest sounds, but something else as well. A tinkle of laughter, perhaps? Yes, laughter, mixed with the sounds of birds singing. Meadowlarks, he felt sure. The laughter sounded like a woman’s delighted mirth. Cautiously, the lad crept toward the sounds. He discovered, standing on the sandy beach along the river, a vision of white beauty. The woman—or was she but a young girl—was looking up at her raised hand. On one extended finger sat a yellow-breasted meadowlark. As he stared, he heard both the girl and the lark make the sweet summer sounds, as though conversing.
The sun was behind the woman/girl, its rays penetrating her garment, revealing her form and her beauty. Her white gauzy garment barely shielded her silhouette. Her perfect form was fully revealed, her clothing hiding nothing from his staring, eager eyes. He felt his member swell within his clothing as his eyes traced the shape of her bosom, her hips, and even the slight darkness that lay low on her smooth, flat belly. He could see the swell of her nipples and the darkness of her skin around them.
The lad felt himself breathing hard. The erection in his groin was so tense that it almost hurt. Any movement caused the supersensitive skin of his penis to grow yet harder as it touched the fabric of his clothing, though becoming harder seemed not possible.
He heard her tinkle of laughter as the lark seemed to kiss her lips. Again, she emitted the sunny sparkle of the birdcall. The lark answered immediately.
The lad could feel some sort of liquid slowly coursing down his rocky, hard shaft. He glanced down to discover that his trousers were starting to show a dark wet area at the tip of his erection. He felt intense embarrassment, realizing he would not be able to go straight home, at least not until his clothing had dried. Perhaps a dip in the stream would hide his shameful wet spot. He dared not touch himself. He knew he would erupt with little further provocation. His whole body was prickling with his desire for the sensual beauty.
Again his gaze caressed her bounty. The bird flew off. She tittered in glee again, watching its silent flight. Then she looked straight at the young man. The lad froze, utterly shamed at being caught in his deliberate act of voyeurism. She smiled at him, shyly, but with some certain sense of confidence. She pointed directly at him, then crooked her finger in a ‘come hither’ gesture. She smiled again, her focus clearly on him. It was a big happy smile, full of glee, full of love of life.
He forgot about the growing wet spot on his trousers. He forgot about the intense erection he carried, protruding clearly and obviously. He knew only that he must go to her. And he did. Tentative, to be sure, but as though predestined, he walked to her, his penis waggling obviously, aching, and rock-hard with need.
She watched him walk toward her. Her eyes moved from his face to his tented trousers, then to his arms, his shoulders, and his chest. Then back to his erect phallic projection. She smiled as she watched his obvious discomfort. She held out her hand, not toward his hand, but toward his crotch. She seemed to have sympathy for his plight.
The lad felt himself blush bright red, shamed by his inability to control his own body’s reaction to her sensuality. He stopped one step away from her. She made that final step, her hand receiving and then gently fondling his trapped erection. As she cradled his excited phallus with one hand, her other hand freed it from the prison of his clothing.
At her first touch on his flesh, his penis exploded, showering her arm and white garment in shard after shard of gooey, fragrant sperm. He heard his howl of release echo back from the valley walls. She giggled affectionately.
Instead of releasing his member, she milked his shaft, ensuring that any sperm trapped below the surface was also given its freedom. He watched it run down and over her hand, reaching her wrist, then dropping to the top of his boot. Drip, drip... drip. The lad sank to his knees; so great was his release. She gracefully sank to the sandy earth below and behind him, pulling his head to her lap, caressing his forehead, his hair,
as she gazed into his half-closed eyes. She fed him the sperm that had sullied the skin of her hand. Despite his best effort to stay awake, the lad sank into a deep, tranquil slumber, dreaming of meadowlarks, of sunshine, and of a dark-eyed beauty that stole his breath away.
