Autumn's Touch, Bare Skin

Her tan lines were fading as autumn placed a chill in the air that swept through her hair, moving it while she wrestled with the leaf bag. As she bent over, neckline gaping, I could see past the restrictions of her sweatshirt and shirt to the frilled edges of her bra. She caught my gaze and smiled. The scent of damp earth and decaying leaves clung to her, a primal perfume that both intrigued and unsettled me. The sheer panels of her yoga pants, a shade of charcoal gray, revealed the sculpted curve of her legs, the muscle definition a stark contrast to the softness of her skin. Beads of sweat glistened on her brow, a testament to the physical exertion, and the cool air did little to alleviate the building tension in my core. The black fabric, clinging to her form, seemed to amplify the heat rising within me, a potent mix of lust and anticipation. I felt a desperate need to touch the fabric, to trace the lines of her body, to claim her as my own. My stomach clenched with an insatiable desire, a hunger that threatened to consume me. As we pushed the last of the bags onto the truck, our torsos brushed, releasing a wave of human musk – a potent combination of sweat, testosterone, and something uniquely her own. My hand instinctively slid down her side, finding purchase on the smooth curve of her waistline, an act both innocent and charged with unspoken longing.

“I’ll haul these off later,” I murmured, my voice thick with suppressed desire. My mouth watered involuntarily as I leaned in for a kiss, my lips anticipating the taste of her skin, her breath, her essence. She let out a sigh, her parted lips hinting at the pleasure she was already experiencing, and as we disengaged, a silent understanding passed between us. We walked toward the house, her work-worn hand finding its way into mine, a comforting weight against my palm. The cold air swirled around us, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and distant rain, adding to the sensual atmosphere. She closed the screen door to our four-seasons porch, the familiar “bang” of the spring-loaded mechanism echoing through the space. The porch itself was a testament to our shared life, a place where we could retreat from the world and lose ourselves in each other’s embrace.

“Right here,” she whispered, her voice husky with anticipation, leading me to the unfolded daybed on the seasonal porch. The aged wood beneath us held the ghosts of countless evenings spent lost in each other’s arms. She leaned back against her elbows, her gaze locked on mine, an invitation and a challenge all in one. I could feel the heat radiating from her body, a tangible manifestation of her arousal, as I moved closer, my senses heightened by the electric charge in the air. The chimes hanging from the porch rafters began to sing, their discordant notes adding to the atmosphere, each strike a percussive reminder of the passion simmering between us. My hands moved almost unconsciously, reaching for the simple cotton shirt she wore, my fingers tracing the outline of her breasts before gently pulling it away, revealing the delicate lace of her bra. The scent intensified, a blend of sweat, perfume, and something undeniably wild, drawing me closer still. A drop of perspiration clung to her brow, a tiny pearl of moisture that reflected the light from the setting sun. The breeze rustled through the remaining leaves on the trees, rattling the screens and sending a shiver down my spine, but it couldn't diminish the heat that pulsed between us.

I stripped off my own shirt, revealing my muscular chest, feeling the cool air on my skin as I moved closer to her. Her body, warmed by exertion, radiated a primal heat, and the scent of her intensified with each passing moment. My hand found its way to her waistline, gently pulling her closer until our bodies were pressed together, the scent of her filling my senses. The chimes continued their erratic symphony, a soundtrack to our shared anticipation. My fingers began to explore the contours of her body, tracing the lines of her ribs, the curve of her spine, the swell of her hips. Each touch sent a jolt of pleasure through my veins, fueling my desire even further. As she shifted slightly, her thighs brushed against my waist, a tantalizing invitation that I couldn't resist. I slid underneath her thighs, my hands grasping her legs, pulling her closer until our bodies were locked in a passionate embrace. The scent of her filled my nostrils, a heady mix of musk and something uniquely hers, intoxicating and overwhelming. I began to slowly push upwards, my hands gripping her thighs, pulling her towards me, feeling the heat radiating from her body intensify as we drew closer.

My body moved stiffly as I made my way over to the bed, and when she leaned back on her elbows, looking over at me, I removed my stocking cap, then placed my hands on her knees and opened her pants. The air now filled with the scent of her wanton sexual wetness—oh, to taste her! Her panties weren't much resistance against my haste to be inside her. The breeze rustled through the leaves, creating a gentle, cooling effect on our exposed skin, while the chimes continued their chaotic melody. As I moved to the side, my body arched forward, my hips rising to meet hers, and we began to slowly grind against each other. Her legs pressed against my ears, almost as if she were trying to pull me closer, and I found myself completely lost in the sensation of her warmth and the intoxicating scent of her body. My eyes fixated on the path of her fingers, the in, out, and over-the-clit action, lost in the rhythm of our movements. The air thickened with anticipation, as we continued to move closer and closer. The rhythmic sound of our bodies against each other filled the space, a primal symphony of desire.

Darkness enveloped me, her sweatshirt now over the top of my head, her thighs around me, the day bed pillows and comforter cutting light out left and right. Air moved slowly, and the temperature kept rising in the sex vault that encapsulated me. Her legs hung over my shoulders. My arms reached under and wrapped around to her stomach and down, my fingers rubbing the crease at the top of her folds. Her scent intensified, a primal bouquet of sweat and leaves, clinging to my senses. She moaned deeply then suddenly moved her legs off of me and freed my head from her. The cool air hit the wet remnants of her vaginal fluids and chilled my lips and face as they began to evaporate. She scooted to a sitting position, her bounty displayed for me as she sat cross-legged, smiling, her own hand now reaching down where I had enjoyed her flavors. The wind picked up; the chimes danced, and her hair blew around the stocking hat she still wore. Her fingers slid inside and over the delicate folds that throttled her passion, her voice, and her breath. They disappeared inside only to reemerge, slip over the flaps of skin, then sink deep again—first one finger, then easily two and three. Her display of self-love hardened my flesh. Her eyes now closed, head kicked back, the second and third waves of pleasure climaxed as her hips gyrated against her hand. I quickly joined her, half-naked. My jeans and boxers discarded, my length now bobbed erect in the breeze, fluid dripping from the head, throbbing and wanting her. I moved in and startled her somewhat, interrupting her beautiful display of pleasure by kissing her deeply. Her wet hand reached to my face, smearing more of her onto it before slipping two fingers in the corner of my mouth. My lips left hers to encircle her offering.

Her free hand found and cupped my shaft, the clear liquid now dripping against her palm and pooling, smooth. She used short strokes, her finger pressed along the downside of the shaft, pumping the fluid out stroke by stroke. Then she brought her palm and fingers to her mouth, licking off the savory collection in a way that demonstrated how much she enjoyed our combined nectar. Her eyes fixed intently on my erection, which showed itself unphased by the winds of fall. Then, in a surprise move, she turned and showed me her smooth orbs of flesh, my destination wet, swollen, and ready below and between them. She turned her face over her shoulder toward me, inviting me for a ride, as her hands and knees rested on the daybed and her feet dangled over the edge. I could stand and enjoy what came next.

A step to the left and forward put my dangling protrusion just in front of her warm opening. She strained her head up to see what I was about to deliver. It glistened from the smear of her hand, its head hovering above the surface of her flesh like a lunar lander. Then it disappeared over her horizon, and she looked forward, closing her eyes for its final descent into the tunnel of warmth that awaited.

My fingers pressed into her hips, and she readied, pivoting her hips into a “cow” pose while lowering onto her elbows. Looking down, I saw her delicious slot, and a part of me—feeling its dried output on my cheeks, lips, and nose—almost wanting to go in for another taste. Desire swelled up as I lined up to her, pressing the very tip close and just against the crack of her opening. “Mmmmm,” she sighed in anticipation, the tip of my flesh just touching hers. Then she cried out, “OH, GOD, Yes!” My hips had thrust forward with all of my weight, barreling through all resistance, pushing open. The lubrication from our oral delights and her fingering let me slide deep, unstoppable, and her body braced to take me. My waist traveled ahead until her frame stopped me. I was inside, surrounded by the warm, dripping wetness and held encased in her flesh. “YES!…FUCK YES!…GOD YES!” she cried out into the breezy morning as I pumped back and thrust forward three more times, assuring she loosened up for me. Her head was now down between her elbows, bracing hard against my momentum and bouncing a little. My hands still held her thighs and hips, pulling her closer to me on each drive home. Her voice echoed against the metal of the screened-in porch. The wind cooled our exposed skin, and the erotic nature of her—balled up layers on her torso, her stocking hat now on the floor—elevated us as our skin merged us into one body.

I slid my hands out and to the bed, rotated my hips to a different, higher angle, and got ready to bring this ship home to dock. I lengthened and quickened my strokes, bringing the tip almost out and then slamming back into her. She held up my weight, my hips still rhythmically pulling back and forward. My head lay on her shoulders and neck. I could feel each breath she drew and then quickly exhaled, as the work of taking me and supporting my weight brought the sweat back to her brow. She began to push back on each little thrust, twisting and jamming her hips to my rhythm, getting every inch out of each penetration. The rhythmic sound of our bodies against each other filled the space, a primal symphony of desire.

I rolled her nipples between my fingers, her flesh filling my hands. With my ear pressed against her back, I heard her climax twice to our lovemaking. My instrument now felt numb and blunt inside. The tiny sighs against her strained breath, the rush of first penetration far in the distance, and the roller coaster of lovemaking sent waves of pleasure cascading against my hard grind. She expressed some distress in frantic cries and built up to a final crash.

I slipped my hands out and to the bed, rotated my hips to a different, higher angle, and got ready to bring this ship home to dock. I lengthened and quickened my strokes, bringing the tip almost out and then slamming back into her.

As we dressed, I could smell “us.” We’d mixed our fluids, musks, and sweat, rubbing work-worn flesh and producing secretions that filled the air with scent. We stood up, and I held her long to share our residual heat and combat the chill. Then I went to haul the leaves away. I opened the door of my truck, looking out into the yard to take in the result of our morning’s work. Just before shutting myself inside, I could see Old Man Jesup raking his backyard. With a smile, he gave me a tip of his old seedcorn cap and returned to work.

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