Spare-time in the garden

Sun hits hard in July. Sweat slides down my stomach as I step outside, wearing nothing that matters. A warm breeze moves across bare skin and makes everything feel slower, heavier. I drop onto the grass. When there's nothing left to do, cock in my mouth feels better than nothing. Blonde hair sticks to the back of my neck while I lean in, take him to the throat, work my tongue along the underside until spit runs down my chin. He pulls me up, turns me over the garden bench, and pushes inside without asking. My ass stretches around him, tight and slick. Each thrust knocks the breath out of me, sun bright on my back. When he grunts and pulls out, hot ropes land across my face, sticky lines from lips to lashes, and I lick what I can reach, tasting salt and summer.