I woke up that morning, cold, and painfully stiff. It hadn’t been any fun to get out of my sleeping bag, and get to my feet. Dew had settled on everything in sight, and a fine misty fog filled the air. I didn’t really care how I felt. I’d finally convinced her to come with me on a camping trip in the mountains.
I’d slept outside the tent, under the trees, and the stars. So she could sleep inside the tent, and have some privacy. Now that I was up, I wanted to see if she had slept well, and was OK. I tapped on the tent’s entrance, “Are you in there?”
“No, I’m over here,” she answered. I looked toward the edge of the camp site, where the trees began, and the sun was filtering through their leaves. She was wearing tiny shorts, and a tank top t-shirt. She smiled, “Let’s take a walk.” I followed her into the trees. She stopped, standing in the sunlight. “I need a hug.” I walked up behind her, and put an arm around her waist. “Better?”
“No.” She reached back, took my other arm, and pulled it around her, pressing both my hands against her, pushing herself back into me.
The only thought in my head was, “Wow.”
Then she pulled off her top, and stood there, naked from the waist up. My arms still wrapped around her. She reached up, and gently pushed my head toward her shoulder. Not knowing what to do, I kissed her shoulder. She sighed, and asked, “What does it take to get you to see the obvious? As salty as I am right now, I’d think you’d be able to figure out what I want.”
She looked me in the eyes. “You can figure out what I want, can’t you?”
Just on a hunch, I let my hands run up her body to her bare breasts.
All she did was smile, nod her head, and whisper, “Yes.”
I wrote this piece in response to the prompt for week 24 of Rebecca Grace Allen‘s Sinful Sunday Flash Fiction challenge. It’s 143 words too long, and it isn’t terribly sinful. But at least I wrote something.
If you are 18+ years of age, feel free to go read all the entries in this weeks challenge. They are, very much, “Sinful”.