Wet Like a Sponge

The sun beats down on the pool deck. Sandy stretches out on her towel, already slick with heat and the slow burn of her own thoughts. She peels her bikini away piece by piece, letting the fabric cling for a second before it slips free. Her hands follow the light, tracing every stretch of skin the sun can’t quite reach. Fingers dip between her thighs, slow circles, then quicker, firmer. Her hips lift into her own touch, breath coming harder. She doesn’t stop until she’s soaked straight through, dripping onto the towel like a sponge left out in the rain.