Autumn harvest

Jane stands naked on the wooden porch, her blonde hair catching the last of the sun. She reaches back, fingers tracing the curve of each cheek, squeezing the soft flesh until it dimples beneath her grip. The cool air raises goosebumps across her skin while the sunlight keeps her warm between her shoulders. Her hands slide lower. One palm presses flat against her mound while the other slips between her thighs. She parts her legs, letting the breeze touch her wet lips. Fingers move slowly at first, then faster, until she bites her lip and rocks her hips against her own hand. She drops to her knees on the weathered planks, ass lifted, thighs spread. Her middle finger circles her clit in tight, wet loops. She moans, low and steady, as the sun dips behind the trees and paints her skin gold. Autumn light finds every freckle across her shoulders, every pale stretch of thigh. Her breath comes shorter. Her free hand grips the railing. When she comes, she pushes two fingers inside and holds them there, pulsing around them while the last warmth of the day sinks into her bare skin.