Nestled here in this cradle of nature, he called the pond home. It was surrounded on all sides by woods, with the only sign of civilization being a green metal trash can resting beside a dirt trail that lead into the woods. An underground stream kept the pond fed, and under the surface was a world apart from the one above, with its own forests and wildlife. It was boring sometimes, true, but heavy storms always added an element of excitement.
He wasn't sure what he was, exactly. The words "spirit" or "ghost" seemed to be close. Normally, he lived in the pond, formless, drifting, floating, one with the water. One could almost say that he was the water. Every once in a great while, though, he would solidify and take the shape of a man, spending the day above the pond's surface. He always had to touch the water, since it was his life source, but this small constraint didn't really matter too much. He enjoyed seeing the surface world, regardless of how it happened.
His thoughts were attuned to the clearing around the pond. He could hear the high-pitched twitter of the birds as they flew by. He could sense the soft sighs of the wind as it blew through the tree limbs. He could almost see the parting rain clouds in the sky above this little world. The gentle waves of the pond soothed his thoughts and beckoned him back to rest in a world of sweet oblivion.
Something, though, had entered this pristine world, arousing his interest. He shifted his senses to the surface, searching the banks of the pond. Finding the outsider, he let his thoughts focus on her, absorbing her image into his consciousness.
She was young, probably not much more nineteen or twenty. Her short, thin body created an image of weakness and frailty which tugged at him. Her ivory skin seemed to glow in the cloudy daylight, highlighting the shoulder-length dirty blonde hair that was tied in a ponytail. Dressed in high-cut denim shorts and a snug plain white t-shirt, she exuded the essence of youth and vitality. Truly, he thought, she was like a nymph, beautiful and seductive, but with a playful, teasing side to her.
The young woman was carrying a picnic basket and a brightly-colored blanket. Looking around the clearing and not seeing anyone, she proceeded to walk to the edge of the pond. Spreading the blanket down on the wet grass, she sat and opened the basket, pulling out a sandwich, a small bag of chips, and an apple. She ate the food quickly, observing her surroundings, her eyes lingering always on the water.
Putting her trash back in the basket, she pulled out a bottle of suntan lotion. Squirting some on her hands, she ran the lotion up her legs from her feet to the hem of her shorts. Shifting her movements to her arms, she repeated the gesture there, too. Seeing her moistened skin glistening in the light would have made his heart lurch, if he had one. Heart or no heart, he could feel a primitive need begin to rise inside him: the need to conquer, to have, to mate with this little nymph.
He watched as she lay down on the blanket and closed her eyes, the warmth of the sun seeping into her skin, the rays bouncing over her body. How long he watched her lie there, he didn't know; time didn't exist for him. All he saw was the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, and the soft, subtle movements of her body as she shifted positions slightly. He could almost hear her breath, smell her scent, and feel her skin. Constrained to the water, all he could do was watch, hope, and desire. The thought of emerging from the pond entered his mind, but he dismissed it. He didn't want to scare this vision away with his sudden appearance.
The young woman sat up and looked around the clearing again; still alone. Moving her hands to grip the bottom of her t-shirt, she lifted the garment over her head, revealing a pale-blue bikini top. Standing up, she unfastened the button and zipper of her shorts and pushed them down her legs, revealing the matching pale-blue thong. Setting the discarded clothing on top of the picnic basket, she sat back down, grabbed the lotion again, and applied some to the newly-revealed skin.
How he longed to be able to part from the water at that moment! Seeing her small, firm breasts snugly encased in that flimsy bit of fabric only served to increase his desire. He couldn't help but admire the firm tightness of her stomach as her fingers ran across it, covering it with the lotion. Moving downward, his thoughts lingered on the hidden treasure at the apex of her legs, imagining it. How would it look to his eyes? How would her womanly perfume smell? How would she feel to his probing fingers and hardened manhood? How would the skin and nectar of this nymph taste on his tongue?
After rubbing herself with the lotion, she lay back down, resuming her sunbathing. The lustful torture he felt for this girl couldn't be described. How he longed for her to come into his world and let him bathe her, touch her, caress her. He was sure he could give her pleasure unmatched, letting her mind melt with the sensations. Realistically, he knew that she would never enter his world. So he contented himself to watch her chest rise and fall, her skin glisten, her body shift as she moved.
All of his thoughts, his consciousness, were on this intruder, this vision. The smooth, glistening skin of her legs tempted him. He admired the firm flatness of her stomach. He longed for the soft globes of her breasts to yield to his touch. Her innocent-looking face was a mask of contentment, her breathing steady and relaxed, her full, delicate lips parted in a small smile. Turning over to lie on her stomach, the taut smoothness of her thighs and ass fueled his need. The small dip at the small of her back would have made his mouth water. Seeing her breasts pressed against the ground, the sides poking out from under her body, made him want this stunning creature even more.
With his thoughts directed fully on her, nothing else mattered. The birds twittered unheard. The wind blew unnoticed. The clouds passed by, their motion ignored. The time that he watched her lying so close to him, yet so far away, drove him to an almost desperate state. In this formless shape, all he could do was imagine. His lips would wet her skin as he pressed feather-light kisses against her. His hands would caress every inch of her pureness, searching for those spots that fueled her desire. His tongue, following his hands, would taste the flavoring that made her unique, probing her crevices. He would run the tip of his nose across her smooth planes, letting her perfume drown his every thought, absorbing himself in her body. Oh, the possibilities...!
After some time, longer than the first, she stood up again. After getting dressed and gathering up the basket and blanket, she started to walk back to the trail. He could have howled out in pain and anguish as this beauty left him. His desire unmet, he wanted so much to have her, to feel her body as it pressed against him, hear her cries of pleasure.