Sweet Summer

Maria has the whole summer ahead of her and intends to fill every hour with pleasure. The sun is high, the terrace empty, and she lies back on the lounger, knees parted. Light falls across her skin as she slides two fingers between her folds, spreading them open. She watches the wetness glisten before she pushes in slowly, then faster, hips lifting to meet her own hand. Each thrust draws a soft, wet sound that floats over the quiet garden. Her free hand cups one breast, thumb circling the nipple until it stands tight. Sweat beads at her hairline and slips down her throat. She presses her palm to her clit, grinding in small circles, breathing harder now. The sky stays clear and blue above her while her legs tremble, toes curling against the wooden slats. She comes with a sharp, gasping cry, fingers buried deep, the summer light catching every tremor that runs through her.