Late Summer Fun

This story contains mature or graphic content.

I’m outside, in the backyard, and I’ve driven the car around to wash it. It’s one of the last really hot days of the summer, when the sun seems to hang above forever, and everything is still green.

I have the hose out and I’m using it to rinse the car off. You come out the backdoor and you’re wearing a beautiful yellow sundress made of a light, flowing material. The shoulder straps are wide, as thick as my thumb, and the collar sits above your breasts while the back scoops down a bit. It drops down to below your knees, but material is light enough, and the skirt loose enough, that it looks to keep you very cool in the early September afternoon.

You’ve a laundry basket on your hip; full of some freshly washed white sheets just come from the washing machine. You hold it with one hand and shade your eyes with the other as you survey the backyard a moment before stepping quickly down the steps into the grass. Free spirit that you are, you’ve no shoes on, and you skip across the yard, pausing to press a quick kiss to my cheek on your way to the clothesline.

Starting at the line farthest away, you begin hanging the sheets and I go back to finish up washing the car, but I can’t help that every few moments, my eyes are returning to you. Your hair’s pulled into a tight ponytail at the back of your head, but as you work, some few strands have escaped and you push them out of your face when you turn to smile at me. I watch you, the little droplets of sweat that trickle down your neck, or that disappear between the tops of your breasts, and soon I realize, as a small cloud passes away from the sun, that from where I stand, the sun is behind you, and I can see the silhouette of your body through your sundress.

I can feel my heart begin to hammer watching you, as you bend to the basket and lift another sheet to pin to the line. I follow the curves of your legs as they rise to where they join, and the slope of your hips and bottom, the smoothness of your stomach below your petite breasts, and I know I need you.