As she turned in a slow graceful curve her large black eyes caught the glow of a fire at the lakes edge. A smile curved her lips and a rumble began deep in her throat. There was no denying the craving any longer. Silently she landed near the waters edge, out of the circle of light cast by the small fire. Her body rippled as she changed, her blueish scales becoming smooth pale skin, the ridges and delicate horns of her head became long red tresses that framed her face and lay in waves across firm high breasts. Weaving herself a long sheer gown from the evening mist she walked toward the fire's glow. There was only one human there, a man. Tonight he would be hers. At the edge of his campsite she paused, her sense of smell picking up a strangely familiar scent. It was so faint as to almost be a memory. She sniffed gently and it was gone, merely a figment of her imagination. The man lay on a pile of furs near the fire. To her surprise all he wore was a kilt around his waist. His hands. She moaned again, and pulled me even harder to her. I took that as a good sign. My hand on her waist, almost on its own, began to slide up her side under the sweater, tracing the hidden musculature just under the soft layer of skin. My fingers felt the rough cotton and elastic of her bra, and quite naturally followed its path under her arm to cup her small, round covered breast under the sweater. She was making lots of small sounds into my mouth, and she twisted just slightly, giving my hand a little more room to caress her. I gently squeezed the soft mound, feeling her true shape for the first time, and wondering all over again at the miracle of the female form. My hand followed her bra back around under her arm again, intent on finding the key to releasing the treasure. Without seeming to move, her body language spoke of disappointment that I had abandoned her boob, but I had better plans in mind for both of us. I fumbled at her back, fingers searching for the complicated hooks and.
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