I'll Show You Mine, If.....

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He'd known what she was doing, and why.

Visibility was well over fifty feet, but he’d known what she was doing, and why, and was even then quickly turning away from her.

She saw that he really was swimming, raw, but she’d not seen what she’d been curious about. It had been her only chance.

She could not believe how brazen she'd been.

He’d turned away from her, knowing she’d be curious about him, just as he was curious about her, though in a less obvious way, but she was well enough covered.

He knew what she’d done, and why, and he’d hidden himself from her.

He really must be shy… or annoyed with her.

That recognition only empowered her, helping her submerge her own shy feelings.

He was different from other boys she knew, but she didn’t know that many.

So, he was skinny dipping. So what? And he was a boy, not a man, despite…. He was no threat to her. It was never wise for a girl to do anything like that up here alone, miles from anywhere, and with always-predatory men and older boys on the loose, but this one would be easily browbeaten.

She’d try and keep some conversation going and find out who he was before she left. She would have to leave before him, somehow.

“How did you get up here?” He hadn’t answered that question the first time she’d asked it.

He didn’t take offense at her questions.

“I come up here whenever the weather is good. Either on a dirt-bike, or on a regular push-bike.” He’d turned to face her again, but he kept a good distance between them. She’d never come across a boy who was more nervous than she was, though he tried to hide it.

“But this is miles from the community and is well up into the mountains.”

A motorbike might make sense, but not the other. That would be a lot of work. He didn’t look that sturdy, but he must be tough.

“I know. I like the exercise and I prefer to be alone. I love the woods.”

So did she.

“You shouldn’t swim out any farther.” Why did he say that?

“Why not?” He couldn’t be concerned for her. He didn’t even know her.

“There’s a plume of cold water about twenty feet out. It’s really cold, and it’s deep there too… well over your head.”

She knew all of that. He’d also seen that she maybe wasn’t a strong swimmer. He’d soon change his mind on that.

“We’re sheltered by that small sand bar,”… he pointed to it… “and there is also a warm spring that comes in, about ten feet out.” He pointed in the general direction of that too, “so the water is trapped here and gets warm.”

She didn’t know that, about a warm spring, but it was worth knowing.

“What about you? How did you get here?”

“I rode up here. My horse is in the trees.”

“I never heard you.”

Horses never did make much noise. Not like a dirt bike.

She wasn’t one to listen to any advice, but often defiantly went against it, so she swam out to the cold water, feeling it slowly becoming uncomfortable. She’d even swum across the lake before, so she had no concerns about getting into difficulty.

When she turned and retreated to the warmer water, she noticed he’d got out.

He’d hoisted himself onto the jetty, keeping his back to her (obviously shy). He wasn’t a usual boy. They always tried to be daring and shocking… always ready to show themselves off in front of any girl.

He was naked, she could see a flash of his white cheeks and pale legs, and he was dressing hurriedly, hopping along the dock while he could, out of her way. He was pulling his underwear on, as he walked out onto the sand where her clothes were, and he sat there watching her, waiting for her to get out too. He hadn’t rushed off.

He’d better not steal her clothes.

She noticed one of his socks floating in the water near her. He’d lost it in his haste to dress, so he couldn’t leave.

She recovered it and put in on the edge of the jetty.

He still seemed very shy, despite her opening the conversation; too shy to come and get his sock. He was not used to girls, whereas she had two older brothers who ribbed her shamelessly about everything, now that she was older.

Now that he was mostly dressed, he waited for her, curious about her and her clothes, but waiting to recover his sock.

He was not used to girls. He also had a towel. He must do this, often.

She was well enough covered, even if her panties were thin and delicate, and with some daring embroidery, a heart, at the side, that no one knew about, other than her mother.

However, she wanted to know where this warm spring was.

She asked, shouting to him. He told her again, giving her distance and direction, and watched as she disappeared under the water to find it for herself before she walked back out to join him, carrying his sock with her, making sure her panties hadn’t pulled too far down her body under the weight of water. Let him stare.

He stared.

The warm spring had been easily found, and it was truly warm. She was glad she’d learned that.

She passed him his sock, watching him wring it out and then lay it on one of the larger rocks to dry.

She wasn’t shy about letting him see her panties, pulled tight into her and probably suggesting too much, but there was nothing to see. She didn’t seem to care that she had on only a wet shirt that showed her breasts, sticking out as they did, and dimpling its surface over her proud nipples in a very obvious way and place.

She was covered, mostly, and she wouldn’t give in to shyness herself, not this time. He was only a boy. She had the advantage of age and maturity.

His legs were freshly scratched up. There was a deep scratch on one that was still bleeding. He’d come off his bike somewhere, or the branches from some scrub brush had caught at his legs, drawing blood. He didn’t seem to know or care. He needed those long socks to protect his legs.

She walked to her horse and dug out a first-aid kit to see to his legs, telling him what she would do.

He didn’t argue, but sat in the sand, his legs stretched out as she squatted by him and saw to him, aware that she was maybe too close to him and letting him see too much of her.

She saw some of his body in turn. He’d dressed hurriedly and hadn’t fastened himself up properly. He was a boy alright, though she didn’t see his… thing… just the position where it was in his shorts. She could see his underwear that he’d donned in haste and other suggestions behind them.

She was staring, and he saw that, so he brought his feet up close to his body to hide himself better, there.

She slowly cleaned off the deep scratch, then applied some antiseptic liquid from a small bottle, letting it dry and put a few drops of collodion along it to seal it.

He’d hidden himself, but with his legs drawn up to him, she could see the bulge where his individual balls were, and could even see the edge of one of them when she looked down into the open leg of his shorts. It looked large, like a walnut. She smiled. She’d only seen those on her brothers before, but not for a very long time.

He should have dressed more carefully.

Boys were built strangely, not like a girl.

He was as interested in her, in the same place as she was on him, looking at her there between her legs as she saw to him, and looking at her breasts too, as well as being curious about her face.

“Thank you. You were very gentle.” At least he was polite and well mannered.

“You’re welcome.”

“I ran into a branch across the trail and took a tumble.”

She could see some bruising too.

She had a lot on her mind, knowing that her developing breasts pushed very obviously at her vest and that, like any boy, he would be curious about those.

She felt a sudden flare of annoyance with herself.

So what? It was time she rebelled and came out of her shell. She was almost fifteen, dammit!

Wet, her vest hid too little of her body, as did her panties. At least he didn’t stare at her too, too obviously, or comment, or try to touch, like boys seemed to want to do, trying to decipher what he couldn’t easily see.

She’d left her bra with her clothes, and he’d been looking at those as he’d sat there, but she didn’t care.

He was just a kid, probably no more than twelve or thirteen, to her fourteen. She, had the psychological and the physical advantages, staring at him.

He’d better not ogle, or say anything or she’d… she’d what?

She’d want to run, again. Or hit him. She wouldn’t cry, which was a young girl’s usual defense.

He offered her the towel, but she ignored it.

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