We were crazy about each other, that was plain to see. I absolutely loved being with her, sharing witty anecdotes and just relishing her open, bubbly personality. She seemed to rather enjoy being with me and would frequently touch my arm while we were talking, a sign I'd learned was a very positive one if you're hoping for a closer-than-average relationship.

We'd met about a year before at an event hundreds of miles from home. I had gone to deliver a presentation on a water quality model I had helped create and she was there to get her company's name out and to learn what she could from the speakers. It was during a break of the open forum on Global Warming that she came up to me and introduced herself.

She seemed hesitant, a little unsure what she was getting into, but she knew some of my coworkers and so had that to lean on in trusting me to respond in a positive way. With such pretty eyes and dazzling smile, there was no way I was going to respond with anything but pleasure at meeting her. Rather than just go through the normal pleasantries then moving back to her chair, she sat down near me and we chatted through the entire break. It was the turning point of the entire event for me. Suddenly, I was no longer alone, but had a beautiful woman with whom I could spend some time.

Unfortunately, the second half of the presentation started up and she went back to her chair. I couldn't stop thinking about her, though, and was more than willing to accept her invitation to join her at the hotel bar later that night to top off the event before we went to the airport to fly home. At the bar, she sat next to me and would occasionally allow her leg to brush against mine, even holding it there a little longer than was customary. She would laugh and reach over to touch my arm, which I always love, while she was talking.

When we got home, we began corresponding via e-mail, having shared our cards at the event. I found myself wanting to share everything with her. Nothing in my life was a closed book. I wrote mini novels in my e-mails, trying to expound on any given point and to share my thoughts and feelings as much as I could.

In short, I came on too strong. I offered too much of myself too quickly and she started to pull away.

I let her go. I realized that I had gone too far and had scared her away, that she needed her space. So I let her go.

We would still communicate occasionally, but usually for work reasons. I did my best to limit my side of the discussion so as not to make her feel uncomfortable again. To be honest, I felt foolish for having pushed so hard before and didn't want to bring that to the fore again. My favorite times were when she'd stop by our office for a meeting and would swing by my cubicle to chat for a little before or after the meeting. She was still as friendly as always, but my heart would secretly beat a little faster whenever she was there.

One day, I received one of those e-mails that travels around asking you to answer a couple dozen questions about yourself so your friends get to know you a bit more. I knew that she didn't usually spend time answering those, but added her to the list of recipients anyway. I figured she's a friend so she should get to know me a bit more. As is common in those questionnaires, a couple of the questions near the end were more intimate. Of course, I went ahead and answered them.

Her response showed some interest in my answers and I fell right into my Internet mode. I'm one of those who will be quite open when on the Internet. I suppose it's a false sense of anonymity that I feel, but it's as though I can say whatever I want when I'm online. Perhaps it's fueled by the fact that I can't see the face of the listener so I don't know how they're really responding and I can just imagine them enjoying what I'm saying.

I started to write to her again, as if there'd been no passage of time, as if she'd not pulled away. We started to flirt a lot in our e-mails, sharing details about ourselves that we hadn't earlier. I started to open up as to how exciting she is and how attractive I thought she was. She responded with very positive comments and I felt spurred on to elaborate even more.

It didn't hurt that I have written several erotic stories and have posted them on my website. After one particular exchange in which I'd mentioned off-hand that I happened to have written some stories, I sent her the link to my site and suggested she read some of them. Apparently, they'd had the desired effect. She was turned on.

Now, I absolutely love the idea of an excited woman. I imagine how their body reacts to the excitement, how their face gets flushed and their breathing quickens, how their nipples harden, their pussy lips begin to open and moisture gathers between them, how they start to move their hips and thighs, trying to apply pressure to their clitoris, which has started to peek out from its hood, seeking pressure and pleasure. I absolutely adore that image and so I write hoping to induce that to occur.

She started to write to me about my stories and which ones she liked and why. Near the end of one day of reading and sending e-mails, she responded with a naughty description of how she'd been chewing on her pen and how much she wished it had been me there in her mouth. Instantly, my cock grew to attention as my mind played through the scenario, picturing her mouth opening to accept the head of my cock. I imagined her sucking more and more of my cock into her until she'd taken as much as she could, then how her cheeks would be pulled inward by the suction applied to my throbbing member. Imagining her head bobbing in my lap, my cock lavishing the hot, wet attention she was giving made me a little light-headed.

Once again, I found myself fantasizing about her each morning as I woke up. I would lie in bed and stroke my cock, thinking about the things in my stories and things we'd described in our e-mails. It was the perfect start to another day of flirting and fun.

I found out during our e-mail conversations that she'd had fantasized about me, too. Once again, my mind played out the scenario, imagining her lying back on a couch, her hand between her legs, her fingers playing with her engorged, wet pussy lips, occasionally diving inside then back out to rub in little circles around her clit. I was getting so incredibly turned on by the thought of that beautiful woman masturbating to fantasies of me.

Of course, I didn't want to push things too hard again so I avoided trying to move our relationship to the point that we were meeting up and spending time together. There was something special about keeping things in fantasyland, something almost naughty about doing it while we were at work. I feared that if I tried to take things to the "real" world, I'd scare her off again and I definitely didn't want to do that. I craved her e-mails and her ideas too much. I found myself yearning to see the "new mail" icon appearing in my System Tray.

One day, things changed.

We were up for a long weekend and I had figured it would be a great time to write a new story, watch some new movies, get some shopping done, my usual weekend duties, though with perhaps a bit more time to relax. As is common among friends, she sent me an e-mail asking me what I had planned for the weekend. Her response, when I told her what I had in mind, was one that got my heart racing. She asked me if I wanted to go camping with her.

We'd shared numerous times how much we enjoyed being outdoors and just how much we always wanted to get away from the crazy life of the city. She knew how long it had been since I was last able to go camping and just how much I missed it.

While staring at her e-mail, I thought through all the reasons why I shouldn't go. None of them held a candle to the joy I knew I would feel by being out in the forest again. The prospect of being in the forest with her overshadowed any potential doubts I had. Typing slowly, as if quick keystrokes would frighten her off again, I told her that I would love to go. As I hit Send, it occurred to me that she just might be as nervous as I was about this, if not more so. With that realization, I understood a bit more just how important that offer was and I vowed to approach things with care.

We sent several e-mails back and forth outlining the trip, where we would meet, who would bring what, etc. She was going to take me to one of her favorite camping spots. It was remote enough that we felt like we were all alone, but close enough that we could come back if we forgot something. To save on gas, she suggested I swing by her place Friday morning and that we travel together. We were going to stay until Sunday afternoon, giving us enough time to enjoy some of the hiking trails in the area, but not so much that we needed to worry about extra gear.

Friday morning, I showed up at her house at 8 a.m., as planned. We loaded her gear into my car and headed out of town. It was a very pleasant drive, but we both seemed a little forced with our jokes at first. We were just a little too nervous to be natural. It was incredibly exciting, though, to be going away for the weekend with her.

While driving down the road, she decided to have some water to ease her thirst. Sometimes I get urges to be mischievous and one of those urges hit me while she was drinking. Normally, I can suppress those urges, but this one was just too strong. I quickly swerved over to the next lane, saying something about potholes in the road. As happens when you do that, she lurched sideways and water splashed on her shirt, her arms, and her face. I looked over at her and she looked at me and we both burst out laughing. The tension was broken and our normal banter began. The rest of the drive to the campground was filled with jokes and fun.

Pulling into the campground, we drove over to her favorite spot. It was one of those sites where you park in one location and carry your gear back to the site, itself. This gives the camper the added benefit of being even further removed from what little traffic there is in the campground. We started to hoof our gear back to the site and ended up passing each other several times along the trail. As is my custom, I would often reach out and touch her as we passed. It's just my way of letting the other person I know they're there and I'm glad they are. I like the little touches.

Once we had everything in camp, we divided up the work of getting settled. I put up the large tent I had brought. I figured since it was a two-room tent, we could sleep in it together and still have our own space. Of course, just because there are two rooms, doesn't mean you have to use both of them. Meanwhile, she started getting the cooking space put together, the Coleman stove set up, the ice chest appropriately placed nearby, etc.

At one point, she reached over and grabbed a duffel bag and pulled out what appeared to be a bunch of netting. I started to put the sleeping gear in the tent, but kept an eye on what she was doing. She carried the netting out of my field of view as I started to inflate the air mattresses. It doesn't take too much with a foot pump, but it still keeps me near the tent while I'm doing it. She came back just before I finished the air mattresses and just winked at me when I asked her what she'd done. I figured she'd get around to letting me know when she was ready.

I put the rest of our stuff in the tent then went over to help her get lunch together. It turns out she fixes the best sandwiches. We had a terrific lunch then planned the rest of the day. There were a few hikes we wanted to try out, so we gathered our stuff together, put it in the tent, locked it, grabbed our day packs, and walked over to the nearest trailhead.

The trail was just a few miles long, but it wound through some beautiful country. I had my camera with me and started shooting pictures all over the place. It seemed that every time I turned my head, I'd see something new I wanted to capture with my camera. She just chuckled at what a shutterbug I was. Every time my eye passed over her, it lingered, and I found myself wondering if she would let me take pictures of her. We'd talked about that a few times during our e-mail conversations and she had suggested that others had found her very photogenic, but that she might need some alcohol in her before she'd consent to a private photo shoot.

At one point along the path, she stopped to lean over and smell some really pretty, yellow flowers alongside the trail. As she did, I saw the sun passing through her hair and it made her glow. There was no way I was going to be able to pass up the opportunity to capture such beauty. I lifted my camera to my eye and arranged the view in the viewfinder so I had the right feeling in the photo, focused, and snapped the shot. It was amazing. As the preview showed on the screen of my digital camera, I took a quick look at it and my breath caught in my throat. It was quite possibly the most beautiful picture I'd ever taken.

I had to share, so I took my camera over to her and showed her what I'd done. She was impressed and got a bit caught up, herself, in the beauty of the photo, commenting on how breathtaking it was, but how she couldn't believe it was really her. That led to me professing her true beauty and how I felt honored to be able to capture it with my camera.

She seemed unable to talk for a bit, which is rather uncharacteristic of her, and we continued our hike in silence for a bit. After a while, she spoke up again as I was taking another photo and asked if I truly thought she was that beautiful. When I affirmed the statement, she said that she would like to pose for me. She had never had anyone profess her beauty like that and felt like I was someone she could trust to photograph her.

We left the trail and worked our way back into the woods a bit, hoping to distance ourselves from any potential hikers. We stopped in a particular pretty clearing among the trees. She set down her day pack, opened it up, and produced a small bottle, which she opened then took a long drink. She said she trusted me, but that a little alcohol might just make it easier for her to open up a bit more.

Though I had photographed a nude woman before, it was more artistic and I didn't get very caught up in the erotic nature of the art. This time, my cock started to harden immediately, especially at the thought of her opening up a bit more for my camera.

I had her start by standing over near the trees. I started taking lots of pictures, knowing that some wouldn't work, but also that many of them were perfect. With a model like her, it was very easy to get beautiful shots. It didn't take long before she started to flirt with the camera. That provided an extra glint to her eye that I knew would translate into very fun pictures. She started to pull her shirt up, revealing a little more skin and looking at me as if daring me to stop her, but hoping I wouldn't. I had no intention of stopping her at this point.