It is July in Minnesota, stifling hot, and the sun is sinking slowly over the Blue Earth River that winds its way through the big boulders deposited when the last glacier receded before emptying into the muddy Minnesota and eventually the mighty Mississippi.
The Blue Earth is a river of many moods, angry and raging during the spring floods when whole trees are torn loose and carried down stream and the raccoons run for cover but a shallow, meandering, peaceful river whose waters shimmer in the sun by day and sparkle in the moonlight at night during midsummer.
You and I are scrambling down the steep banks that separate the river from the road.
You are wearing stone-washed designer jeans whose fit and style is greatly enhanced when you put them on and a tight-fitting tee-shirt that canⴠdisguise your two beauties.
Your long blond hair is freshly washed and blowing in the wind.
A gorgeous sight as usual! I am carrying a six-pack and a blanket.
Apparently we are not going fishing this time.
Getting to the river is not a trivial matter.
The bank between the river flats and the road is some thirty feet high and very steep.
Fishermen have worn a winding dirt path down the bank but it is filled with tree roots and so steep that your momentum carries you down at increasing speed until you finally slip in the loose dirt or trip on a tree root.
No matter, I am here to show you how.
The trick is to grab on to the trunk of an oak tree halfway down to slow your momentum and then to hang on to the protruding tree roots the rest of the way.
You go first and perform like an expert.
I follow you, miss the tree and tumble the last fifteen feet landing at your feet.
You put your hand over your mouth. No use, your eyes tell me that you are laughing.
Following closely along the riverⳠedge we walk almost half a mile to a large sand bar that protrudes into the river.
You carry the blanket, I carry the six-pack and hold your hand.
Five minutes of holding your hand and I am 'high.'
Maybe we wonⴠneed the six-pack!
Here the river spreads out over the landscape, is very shallow and tumbles very swiftly over a hard, gravel bottom, a stretch of river that river rats call a 'run.'
I spread the blanket, lay you on your back, prop up your head with the six-pack, unbuckle your jeans, pull your tee-shirt over your head, remove your pretty satin bra and allow your breasts to spring free.
God, they are beautiful! I admire them with my eyes, my hands, my mouth.
I use the flat of my hand to rub the underside of your naked breasts and to press down on your nipples.
I cup them in my hands and squeeze them gently.
I put warm, wet kisses all over them and lick and suck the nipples one at a time.
They respond and become more beautiful than ever red and swollen against the white skin of your full breasts.
I respond too, and my prick swells, throbs and seeks its own release.
A rush of wings.
A rare flock of snow geese glides gracefully down the river channel in perfect v-formation, flying low, looking for a place to land as the sun all but disappears and twilight descends on the Blue Earth.
You sit erect, cross-legged, slowly unbutton my western style shirt, take my head in your lap as I lie on my back and stroke my hair with your warm, gentle hands.
I look into your eyes, enjoy your full breasts and turn my head to kiss your round little belly.
For a long, long time you rub my shoulders, my naked chest, my nipples. Is this heaven?
Suddenly, a large log comes floating down the river hugging the bank where we are.
As it lazily drifts by in the swirling current we can see that it is a fat, sleek beaver its bright eyes reflecting the last rays of the setting sun.
Its large flat tail serves to keep it afloat as it 'surfs' the Blue Earth looking for fish It doesn't even startle as it sees us as it has not likely seen humans before and I am sure none so beautiful as the one with the long blond hair.
The sun has now completely disappeared at the horizon, the birds have ceased their calling and it is very dark and quiet on the river.
It is still hot and sultry even though the sun has gone down and fog rises gently from stretches of the river where there is less current.
I untie my shoes, kick them off and strip off my jeans and shorts.
My penis is now swollen thanks to your influence and bobs along in front of me as I aggressively wade into the shallow water trying not to slip on the moss-covered rocks or stub my toe on one of the boulders that often lurk beneath the surface.
A big flathead catfish darts out from the shoreline as I enter the water.
He didnⴠknow we were coming!
You are standing on the shore, hands on hips, and ask, 'What in the hell are you doing?'
'Come see,' I reply and wade another fifteen yards into the river.
I turn and look to see if you are coming.
You are barefoot, and have slowly removed your jeans and panties and folded them in a neat pile on the shore.
I wave to you to come in and you tentatively enter the water feeling your way with your bare feet over the slippery rocks.
The first fifteen yards goes without incident though the swift current threatens to knock your feet out from under you and causes your heart to beat faster.
Then you find one of the famous holes on the Blue Earth and are quickly up to your waist in swirling, brown water.
Now your heart is pounding, but there are sufficient incentives on the other side and you continue wading though it is all you can do to maintain your balance.
I promise myself not to laugh at you if you end up surfing down the Blue Earth like the beaver.
It is a long wade, probably sixty yards, and takes some courage when it is so dark and you havenⴠdone it before, but you eventually reach the shallow water and wade onto the pristine sand bar on the other side that has no evidence of human visitation, only the tracks of deer, raccoon and waterbirds at the water's edge.
I am afraid you are pissed, but fortunately you are laughing.
I take your hand and we walk slowly up the sandbar recovering from the exertion necessary to 'meet the challenge of the Blue Earth.'
There is a sudden rustle of leaves twenty yards upstream and fortunately upwind, and three white-tailed deer, a buck and two does amble on to the sandbar and saunter gracefully toward the water's edge.
The buck is huge with a big rack of antlers, a long, muscular neck, bulging shoulder muscles and a long, thick cock with big balls hanging beneath it of the size one sees ordinarily only on draft horses.
And apparently, he intends to use it!
He stands erect with his neck outstretched, his nostrils flared and exposed to the gentle breeze for a long time while the slender does drink at the water's edge.
Fortunately, we are downwind and deer vision is rather poor for stationary objects against a background.
We sit down slowly on the still warm sand holding hands and watching the courtship unfold before us.
The buck sniffs the rear of one very skittish doe and attempts to mount her.
But she is having none of it and bolts away from him.
He approaches her again and again with similar results.
The doe bolts when he attempts to mount her but runs away only a few yards allowing the buck to approach her again.
Finally, the buck succeeds in cornering one very frightened doe, mounting her from the rear awkwardly, and pumping his huge cock into her fuck hole.
He mounts her two additional times humping away frantically whenever he is successful in cornering her.
Eventually, the mating is over and the three deer silently fade into the aspens and are gone. Apparently animals 'do it' but there is no evidence that they enjoy it when they do!
We have some humping of our own to do.
We are both now pretty aroused by the exertion of the wade across the river and the animal courtship.
You lie on your back, your legs spread, your perfect pussy exposed to my eager hand.
I stroke the inside of your thighs as you moan 'Yeah, yeah.'
My fingers find the folds of your fuck hole, and I massage your outer lips before inserting one finger, then two into your swollen pussy.
I grab the base of my swollen penis, guide it into you and then grab your wrists and pin your arms over your head.
You arch your back and your perfect white globes with the hard, erect nipples press against my naked chest as I pump my big muscle in and out, in and out, in and out . . . . . . It is so quiet on the river that all you can hear is the slapping sound of our bellies as you thrust frantically with your pelvis and I pound away with my swollen prick.
You cum first with a little whimper.
Sensations of pleasure race through my penis until it explodes forcing thick white joy juice deep inside you.
So frantic was the screwing that my penis comes out of you, and I spray the last of my load on your lightly haired pussy.
I immediately feel a rush of love for you and gratitude to you for making me feel so great all over.
I hug you, kiss you gently and stroke your hair.
The moonⳠrays reflect off your beautiful white globes, your rounded belly that must have been made just for such love, and the last of my cum juice sparkles in the hair of your gorgeous pussy.
Surely you are the most beautiful creature of all those on the Blue Earth.
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