Mellow fruits

The afternoon hung heavy on the porch, the kind of stillness that makes a girl restless. I started with the fruit bowl, fingers wrapping around the bananas, skin still cool from the shade. One curved just right, pale and firm, and I felt that slow heat climb my spine. A quick glance toward the driveway. Empty. I slid my skirt up, no hurry, letting the air touch my thighs. My fingertips drifted lower, finding heat and slickness already waiting there, tracing the soft parting with a feather-light stroke before pressing in just enough to make my breath catch.