Rebounding

Carina had a broad face with a pleasant smile. I noticed her name stenciled on the front of her T-shirt. She probably had Scandinavian grandparents with her blond hair and full breasts. She would have looked good in a dress that showed cleavage, but she also had the muscle to portage a canoe.

I wouldn't have been daydreaming about her if my former girlfriend hadn't backed out of our camping trip at the last minute. She finally realized that a canoe trip in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area did not include daily clean sheets and hot tubs. My plans for a week of pristine lakes, dazzling sunsets and lots of sex in northern Minnesota had turned into a solo canoe trip with a good digital camera and a few paperback books.

Carina's simple question broke the thread of my daydreaming.

"Do you want me to check your equipment?" She asked, oblivious of the possible double entendre.

"That won't be necessary, if you know what I'm packing." I replied, trying not to be too obvious about the private joke.

"I didn't do the packing." She said, without taking the bait. "You can trust Mike, but I won't."

There was obviously a back story there. But she wasn't in the mood to tell me about it.

"Remember to use the propane stove for all you're cooking. It's a park service regulation."

"OK" I replied nicely enough, but I was barely listening to her go through the formalities of rules and regulations. I pretended that she was telling me about her sexual fantasies, which made the obligatory conversation go by quickly.

"This is a lot of gear for one person. Can you carry it all?"

"The original plans were for two. You want to come?"

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wished that I could have sucked them back in. My love life -- or lack of it -- was not her concern. It was one thing to idly daydream and another to be boorish.

She had the most tactful of all possible responses. She ignored me.

"You'll have to plan a route with fewer portages. It'll take you a couple of trips to carry all of this stuff. Are you experienced?"

Was she experienced? That was the question I asked myself, but I chose the response that wouldn't get me in further trouble.

"Yes. I've canoed the BWCA a number of times, included a couple of times solo. I'll spend the first night near the Gull Lake portage."

I pointed to a spot on the map that I had used a couple of times in the past.

"I've seen moose swimming across the lake at this point. I'd like to get some photos with my new camera. If it rains, I'll just read the books that I brought along. Thanks for asking."

Satisfied that I was going to be able to take care of myself, she gave me a receipt for the remainder of my bill and helped me to carry the bulging Duluth packs down to the canoe. It was early afternoon by the time that I launched, but my first campsite was only a couple hours of easy paddling across the lake.

After I had set up camp and unpacked my gear, I began to wish that I'd taken her advice and checked the gear before I left. The cook stove and the propane tanks were in the pack, but the propane tanks were nearly empty. If I used them for cooking, they would be empty in one to two days. I would either have to go back to get full tanks or cook over an open fire to save the propane for rainy days. I made my decision quickly. I collected some dry branches from farther back in the forest and made a fire on a large flat rock that I could wash clean when I broke camp the next day.

It was well after dusk when I saw her coming across the lake. I turned on a flashlight as a signal, but I think she could have found me in the dark. She landed her canoe and pulled it up on shore before I could lend her a hand. She wore the same green T-shirt and khaki shorts that she had on earlier when she helped me pick up my gear at the outfitters.

"I see you found a solution to the empty propane tanks. You made the fire small and hidden to avoid attracting the ranger's attention. No fire hazard. It looks like you can take care of yourself."

I acknowledged the compliment with a nod. I was a bit confused about why she had come. She had figured out that the propane tanks in my gear were empty when she found the full tanks in the back room and no empty tanks in the used gear that had been turned in that day. That still didn't explain why she had come. No one in their right mind paddles across the lake at night to drop off propane tanks. Paddling at night is not all that dangerous. It just was something that you didn't do except in an emergency -- and my propane tanks were only an inconvenience.

"You're not going to paddle back in the dark, are you?" I asked.

"I wasn't planning on it. I intend to take a dip in the lake to clean up and then where I sleep is up to you. I brought my own sleeping bag but I hope I don't need it."

The boldness of her proposal took my breath away. Before I could answer, she had dropped her shorts and pulled off her top. She stood in front of me in a sensible bra and cotton panties. She seemed intent to finish undressing as I spoke.

"You're kidding?" I replied, but I hoped she wasn't. "These lakes never get warm and the sun has gone down. You'll freeze."

She paused for a moment to consider my warnings and then she reached behind her to undo the clasp of her bra. She leaned forward slightly with her arms outstretched as her bra slid off her shoulders and down her arms. Her young breasts bounced with her movements. She looked at me with her sweet smile as she continued to undress. With a smooth stooping motion, she pushed her panties below her knees and then stood up straight as they floated down her legs to her ankles. The soft tufts of hair above her pubes almost glowed in the lingering twilight. The effect of her nakedness on me was not lost on her. She appeared to be enjoying my discomfort.

I had been propositioned a couple of times in my life, but those women had been drunk. I was not bad looking. I had played baseball at a small college. I knew how to take care of myself in the wilderness, but that skill had just lost me a girlfriend who liked hot showers before sex. Here was this beautiful stranger who promised a night of sex in exchange for a quick dip in ice water. I would never get another chance this easy.

"Don't worry about the water. You won't get so cold that I can't warm you up."

That was all the encouragement that I needed. I nearly ripped my cloths off. She just stood there watching me undress. Then we were standing naked only a few inches apart. We had still not touched. No awkward moments slipping my arm around her shoulder in a movie theater. No trying to get her aroused by touching her breast through her blouse. There we were - naked.

Leaning forward ever so slightly, she brushed her nipples against my chest. This was the real thing. I had gotten lucky. I pulled her into me until her breasts flattened out on my chest. She threw her arms around my neck and kissed me. She offered no resistance as my tongue slipped over her lips. I would have gone down on her right then but she pushed me away gently. Giving my cock a playful squeeze, she turned and walked into the water.

When the water was around her waist, she crouched down and began laughing hysterically. I had followed her into the water and let out a whoop as the cold water hit my testicles. My penis was so shriveled that I could have hidden it completely with my thumb. But I wanted what she was offering so I followed her lead and crouched down until the water was around my neck. The shock of the cold water was overpowering. Not even the promise of sex with a beautiful stranger could keep me in the water for another second. I grabbed her hand and pulled her into shore.

We stood there in the night air. Our naked bodies shivered involuntarily. She laughed again and threw her arms around my neck. Her body had felt warm and soft only a few minutes before. Now she was cold and rough to my touch. The promise of sex had warped my perceptions. This cold mass of shivering flesh in my arms was still my wet dream come true.

"Now we're ready for some good clean fun." She flashed her smile. "Let's get in the tent and I'll warm you up."

We wrapped ourselves in the sleeping bags. She was right about the dip in the lake. She smelled wonderful. The cold water had scoured away the sweat of a day's work hauling gear and paddling canoes. Her skin tingled as my hand ran along her thigh. I could feel the firmness of her muscles toned by a summer of work outdoors.

I ran my hand further up her inner thigh until I reached the place where I wanted my cock to be. She protested and clamped her legs together tightly. No matter how appealing in theory a hand laid gently on her pussy might seem, the reality of our situation was that my hands were as cold as ice and her vagina was clamped shut.

We giggled. There was no other word for it. Then we snuggled tighter. Protests and squirming followed the attempts of cold fingers to explore sensitive areas. For each minute that passed, the protests became weaker and the explorations more bold. After several minutes of wiggling around together, we were at last getting warm enough to become intimate.

I stroked her breasts. My fingers were still cool on her skin, but she no longer pulled away from my touch. I felt the hint of warmth as her palm laid on the delicate skin of my shriveled scrotum. My testicles were still safely sucked up inside, but my penis had begun to reappear and was slowly becoming semi-hard. She rolled the tip gently between her fingers and pumped it up another inch. I had never been so aroused with so little cock to show for it.

Satisfied with the results of her attention to my woody, she pressed her body against mine and kissed me with an open mouth. I could feel the tip of her tongue. My tongue played with hers, and then I chased her tongue back over her lips.

She rolled on top of me without breaking the kiss. The full length of our bodies pressed into each other. She broke the kiss but offered a hard nipple to my waiting lips. Then she arched her back lifting her breasts out of the reach while grinding her lush thatch into my groin.

My cock probed between the folds of her labia hunting for an entrance to her love hole. She had the same need. I felt her hand around my cock guiding me into position. We shoved together at the same instance and I popped inside her. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her in tight. The smooth skin on her back was still cool and moist to the touch but inside her pussy she was hot and dripping wet.

Still gripped in a tight embrace, she swung her pelvis from side to side twisting my cock inside her. Her movement was quickly driving me to the edge. I bucked into her violently but she held onto me and rode my cock. The moonlight had filled the tent with a soft glow. She sat up and continued grinding on my cock with the full weight of her sturdy frame. There was just enough light to see her breasts bouncing wildly above me as her face contorted into an unrecognizable mask of carnal desire. Guttural moans escaped from deep in her throat.

She let out a series of short, stifled screams then clenched her whole body tight and held her breath while she shivered through one long orgasm after another. I was being fucked by a lioness in heat. That's when I lost all remaining inhibition. I scratched my fingers into her back, bit her neck and squirted a huge load of cum into her. She convulsed again and held onto my cock like a glove that was a size too small. I pumped into her again and again. She squeezed until a spray of our juices blew out around the fleshy plug that I had rammed into her love hole.

After the last shudder, we just lay there joined at the groin with my now very flaccid member still gripped inside her. At last she relaxed and let me slide out with a gush of pent up fluids. She rolled off and curled up into a ball with her back pressed against me. I reached around with one arm and cupped a breast in my hand. She pressed her smooth ass checks back into me until my very limp member was nestled snuggly in her warm crack. It was a gesture more of intimacy than desire. We both sighed at the same time. Then we fell asleep with saying another word.

The smell of coffee drifted into the tent and woke me up. The light was just beginning to cut through the morning fog. She must have gotten up early. At least she was still there.

I had slept through the night in the nude. Now I threw on my pajama bottoms, grabbed my camera and popped out of the tent. The best time for nature photography was in the early morning and I had almost missed it.

I found her sitting on a large flat rock by the lake with two insulated coffee mugs and one of my books. She hadn't bothered to put on clothes. She offered me one of the two mugs.

" I wondered when you would finally get up."

"I had every reason to sleep in. That was quite a workout you gave me last night."

She changed the subject.

"This is an interesting book. Is it yours?"

I stared at her blankly.

"Of course, why would you carry a couple pounds of books into the wilderness just for the exercise?"

"I admit it. They're my books."

"Your interests intrigue me. I like that in a man."

"Books are a good way to make friends, but I've never had a woman throw her naked body on me because of my books."

"This is all a bit unusual for me, too."

"So why did you pick me? Not that I'm complaining."

"I either needed to prove that I could seduce a perfect stranger or take a vow of celibacy."

"Sex with a stranger or celibacy. There must be a back story in there somewhere."

"Not much of a story. Just a bad experience."

"The infamous Mike?"

"Yes, the infamous Mike. He charms me for most of the summer until he gets my pants down, then he insults me. I'm laying there dripping cum expecting him to say some tender words of endearment. So what does he do? He tucks his sticky cock back in his pants and calls me the tight ass virgin who almost ruined his perfect score."

"Perfect score?"

"Yea, he'd fucked every other woman on the staff by then-- including the wife of the head chef at the lodge."

"And were you a "tight ass virgin"?"

"No. Yes. I don't know."

We were sitting close together now. She had folded her arms over her breasts and pulled her knees tightly together. She was no longer comfortable in her nudity. I put my arm gently around her shoulder to encourage her.

"I was not technically a virgin. I had a boyfriend for most of college and we had done it a number of times, but only because I thought we were going to be married."

She paused to collect her thoughts.

"I'm really not a prude, but I may have had more than my share of inhibitions."

She searched my face for understanding and apparently liked what she saw. Of course, I didn't really understand at all. I feared for my life if the woman who made love to me last night lost any more inhibitions.

"I've seen a few porno flicks but I never thought I could do it that way. Like people watch gymnastics with no intention of trying a double back flip dismount or whatever."

"Don't give up so fast. You can practice your double back flip dismount -- or whatever -- on me anytime you want. And I'll throw in a heady book discussion later as a bonus"

"You're too kind." She mocked me with just a hint of lingering bitterness, but at least she was beginning to relax.

"I was so mad at him for calling me a prude. When I got the excuse to go after you, I decided to try on a new personality. I was never a 'tight ass virgin' but I decided to ditch the "nice girl waiting for the right man to find her" on the way over here."

"So how do you like your new self; the confident seductress with the gorgeous body and the uninhibited spirit. What would you like to try next?"

"Take my picture!"

"Now?"

"Yes. Now! Right Now! Before I lose my nerve and turn back into that 'nice girl' that every mom wants her son to date."

I picked up my camera and backed away from her taking shots as I moved. Her anger had melted away. The smile and her confidence had returned. It was as if each click of the shutter released another inhibition that held her down. I took a couple dozen images before pausing to review what I had captured in my lens.

The composition of the image was perfect. She stretched out languidly on a large smooth rock near the still water of the lake. Her pale skin was dappled pink in the early morning light. A patch of wildflowers near her feet focused attention on the pleasing curve of her legs. From there, it was only natural for the eye to wander along her nude form pausing briefly at a tuft of pubic hair or a rounded nipple until coming to rest on her broad face with the pleasant smile. I had used a wide aperture and a moderately long lens so that the pale white nude in the foreground was well focused against a blurred mass of dark green evergreens in the background. It was a beautiful photo.

At one time in my life, I had entertained the ambition of becoming a professional photographer. I did not want to take photos of kids at a walk-in studio in the mall. I could have done that, but it would have been just a job. I wanted the dream job of all photographers. I would be on assignment one month with National Wildlife chasing ponies across the steppes of Mongolian and on assignment the next month with Playboy chasing nude cheerleaders across a University campus.

As I was dreaming about being a professional photographer, I made the mistake. I looked at the photo again with the eyes of a professional and ruined it. The image was still well composed, but the model was all wrong. Models don't have broad faces or pleasant smiles. Models can have large breasts, but a model's breasts cannot obey the laws of gravity.

Carina had large breasts that changed shape with her position. Her youthful breasts were perfectly shaped when she stood with her hands on her hips, but they flattened noticeably over her chest when she lay on her back. And they pulled down another couple inches and swayed when she crawled toward me. I laughed to myself imagining her in the weightlessness of space with one breast floating up and the other drifting to the side. No gravity defying space age materials were used in the making of this woman. There was no denying it. She was the girl next door. She was beautiful, but she was still the girl next door.

I shut off the camera. I was disgusted with myself. It was not that I hated beautiful women. I had sex with a cheerleader in college. It was a wonderful experience waking up to those big brown eyes. Her breasts were always perfectly shaped because she was the tall, lean, small breasted type of ideal body. She wasn't obsessed with being beautiful, but she had a confidence that neither I nor any of my former or subsequent girlfriends would have. She knew that she could have another partner the moment she wanted one. The rest of us had to work a little harder and hope that the stars were aligned. We had parted friends after a ridiculous squabble over music. At least I had my ego intact when we parted, and I kept a number of nice memories.

After my cheerleader experience, the mystique of beauty was gone. I still enjoyed the company of beautiful women, but I wasn't obsessed with the hunt for the perfect body. Watching my cock slide into the pussy of a woman on her hands and knees always got me excited. I would grunt and shudder and finally squirt my load in one huge spasm of release. At that moment of supreme sexual enjoyment, it didn't matter if it was my cheerleader's tight buns or my first girlfriend's soft cushion that I was banging. Beauty makes that preliminary flirting so easy, but a man can only get so excited without dying and nearly a dozen different women of varying sizes and shapes had gotten me to that exact same moment of ecstasy just by letting me know how much they enjoyed having my cum shoot into one or more of their warm, wet cavities.