Pûssy On Pûssy (4)
The porch was warm under my bare feet. The air smelled like pine, like dirt and woodsmoke. Somewhere far off, a cicada buzzed in the trees. We hadn’t bothered with clothes. I followed her outside in nothing but a thin blanket, dragging it around my shoulders while Marlie stepped ahead of me, naked, and completely unbothered by the breeze that raised goosebumps across her skin.
“Out here?” I asked her with a low chuckle.
She turned around and smiled. Her hair was pulled up. It was quite messy and damp at the roots. Her body was sweaty and the sight of her in the moonlight made my breath catch.
“No one can see us,” she said. “The nearest neighbor’s half a mile down the hill.”
I looked around. The woods were dark. The porch light above us glowed soft and yellow. A few
