Backyard pleasures

The backyard was my job for the afternoon, but the sun got to me first. A light skirt clung to my hips, and the breeze kept slipping underneath, grazing bare skin. One touch led to another. I ran my fingers along the hem, then higher, until the fabric barely covered anything. The heat settled low in my belly. I eased back in the chair, legs spread, the skirt bunched at my waist. Every slow stroke sent another pulse through me. My blonde hair fell across one shoulder, sticking to warm skin. I pressed two fingers deeper, testing how wet I’d become, and let the quiet sounds carry across the lawn. A dark ponytail brushed my cheek when I tilted my head back. The pressure built fast, tight and sweet. I chased it without hurry, hips lifting to meet my hand, breath catching on every pass. The air smelled of cut grass and sun-warmed skin. I stayed like that until the tension snapped, sharp and clean, leaving me shaking in the open light.