details... details... hmmm...
ok, i've got a time. no panties but it'll have details ... and wetness.
it’s a hot august night. the thick gulf air settles seductively over my skin with its heavy, wet weight. i can smell the seagrass, and the pungent ocean water, and i breathe it in deep. it’s scent is so strong and the air so viscous you could chew it. it fills my belly with anticipation for some reason - like that jolt of electricity that knots inside you when a hand brushes your hip and you know the next place it’ll bush and you can’t wait, but at the same time you want to wait forever.
my skirt is long and wrinkled and it spreads itself out around me, dark against the creamy sand. a light breeze stirs. it doesn’t cool but intstead is a hot breath all over my exposed skin. my arms are bare and tingling from salt and sweat. i lean down and lick my shoulder. i don’t know why i do that, but it’s delicious. i do it again. i uncross my legs and bring my knees up close to my breasts. i lift my skirt slowly so it rests on my thighs and lick my warm knees. my nipples are hard pebbles of granite between the cotton of my shirt and the tops of my legs. my toes play with the sand that’s still so hot at the surface, still holding on to the sun’s fire even as it disappears over the horizon but i know it’s cooler underneath. i dig and wiggle, pushing the sand aside until my feet are buried to the ankle. i feel the muffled crunch of sand under my ass and it's another pleasant jolt of sensual expansion.
the breeze blows again and finds its way up my skirt, between my legs, against my pussy. the air that was so hot before feels cold now. i don’t know why i’m surprised to find that i’m soaked between my legs. dripping.
i can feel the sticky moisture everywhere now that the wind is drying it, cooling it to a temperature just slightly below my body’s own radiant heat. my upper thighs, the crack of my ass, the folds of my pussy, my clit that’s suddenly, shyly poking out between my labia. i’m thoroughly wet and i marvel at the surprise and strength of my desire. i savor the sensation of the slow drips that transpire from my hot, swollen vulva to trickle down between the slightly separated halves of my ass, pooling outside the puckered hole that’s abruptly sensitive to even the slightest pulsation, building up until some invisible dam brakes and a flood soaks into my skirt beneath me and then the sand beneath that. and the sand drinks it up greedily. when i finally stand, some of that greedy sand is clinging to my skirt and brush it off impatiently, callously, not caring that it will soon dry up again, not caring that it will miss drinking from me.
i want to go back inside.