Suntan

Sun spilled across the balcony like warm honey. I peeled off my top, the fabric whispering over my skin, and the gold string of my bikini followed. My breasts met the light. I untied the bottoms too, let them slip down my thighs, and the tan lines vanished. Naked now, I stretched out on the towel. One hand drifted between my legs. My fingers moved slow, then quicker, tracing wet circles. I bit my lip, thighs tensing, every nerve catching the sun. Blonde hair fanned over the cushion. The heat inside me rose to match the heat on my skin, and I let the rhythm carry me, quiet moans mixing with the city hum below.