Summer 4 free porn video

I slept like the dead. If Summer had spent the night masturbating, I’d missed it although, spent as she was when I’d put her to bed, I doubted she’d woken even once.

The next morning, I woke early, feeling energized, curious as to what the day would bring. It was like being a kid on Christmas morning. I was also impatient for my niece to come out of her room, curious about what she’d be wearing. Or not wearing. First things, first. I prepared breakfast. French toast and strawberries. I put the ingredients aside and busied myself around the house, opening the windows to let the breeze through. It was going to be a nice day, judging by the sky. A perfect day for young girls to run around the countryside half-dressed, in fact. After breakfast, maybe I’d suggest some more sight-seeing…

Eventually, I settled down and got lost in a book until she finally made an appearance.

“Good mornings, sunshine.”

“Morning.” She stretched and let out a soft yawn while I admired her over the top of the book I was suddenly not reading. She’d braided her hair so it fell over her right shoulder, stray whisps managing to escape in several places, the tip settled between her breasts. Not bare, but even more enticing. Her bra was lace. Pink lace. It matched her panties. She liked feminine things I’d decided. They suited her, too. I felt myself growing hard.

“Coffee’s hot. Or there’s juice.”

“Coffee.”

“Help yourself. It’s in the pot. I’ll get breakfast started.”

Again, comfortable silence, at least until she settled down at the table, coffee in front of her.

“Sleep well?”

“Like a baby.”

“Thought so. I didn’t hear you last night.” My back was turned, so I allowed myself a wicked grin, wondering how red her cheeks were at the moment.

“Here we go. Dig in.”

I put her plate down, then my own, sitting across from her, very aware of how sexy and sweet - and how vulnerable - she looked in just her underwear.

I enjoyed the meal. Mostly, I enjoyed watching Summer enjoy it. Not overtly. I tried not to be obvious, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, but it was hard not to glance across the table any chance I got.

“This is good,” she mumbled, still chewing.  “Really really good.”

“Thanks.” Her lips were stained lightly red. The strawberries. Just looking at them started me fantasizing about trying to pluck strawberries from her juicy pussy with my teeth…

“After breakfast… I mean, after I shower, mind if I explore your attic some more?”

“Why? Nothing up there but unfinished paintings and you saw those yesterday.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t really get to look at them, though. Not all of them.”

“Sure. If you’d like.”

“Cool.”

This time, Summer cleaned up while I showered. “You cooked. It’s only fair,” she’d said.

After I’d showered and shaved and dressed in my usual jeans and a short-sleeved plaid work shirt she took over the bathroom while I pulled out my camera and went through the pictures I’d taken last night. They were good, though if I had to pick and choose, I preferred the ones I’d taken at the pond during the day.  Still… they captured her essence. Daytime Summer had an air of innocence to her. Nighttime Summer did as well, but there was something else, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on, something subtle in her smile or maybe her eyes, or maybe it was just the shadows playing tricks…

I could still hear the water running so I unzipped my jeans and pulled my cock out, stroking slowly as I viewed the shots. It felt good. Really good. I kept at it, just enough to keep myself hard until I heard the water turn off. Then carefully put it away and did my pants up again.

“Be up in the attic for a bit,” she said, standing in the doorway, this time dressed in a tie-dyed halter dress that showed off a wide expanse of stomach and shoulders, not to mention leg.

“Want some help with the ladder?”

“Think I got it. Back in a while.”

She turned her back to me. The halter was more or less backless. A single tie behind her neck and one around the small of her back and it rode perilously low, the cleft of her ass cheeks peeking just above the thing material. That was it… and then, she was gone from sight, leaving me alone for… well, ‘a while’. I listened until I was sure she was upstairs and then I pulled out my cock again and started stroking myself. The goal wasn’t to come. Just to… feel good while going through the photos in the maze. To be blunt, I wanted to ‘save myself’ just in case… well… you never knew what would happen, did you?

She was gone about half an hour, maybe a little more, during which I’d spent the entire time edging myself and backing away just before I blew my load. In fact, when I heard her descend again, I was almost grateful, feeling a little desperate by then.

“Find what you were looking for?” I teased as she strolled in and planted her amazing ass on the bed beside me, her eyes glancing at the somewhat obvious bulge in my jeans, causing her to giggle.

“Maybe,” she teased, and this time it was my turn to blush a little.  “There a picture up there, it looks finished, so it made me wonder why it’s up there.”

I knew which one she was talking about. There was one of a small waterfall I’d done. The setting was perfect. The light, too. Everything about it and I like to think I captured it perfectly, only… it had always felt like something was missing, and I could never put my finger on it. One of the most frustrating pieces I’ve done because of that so I’d hidden it away and mostly forgotten about it.

“The fall.”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s gorgeous. I don’t get it.”

“It is. It’s just that…”

I paused, thinking of how to explain it to her, hoping that inspiration would strike. Thankfully, it did.

“Do you want to see it? I mean, the actual falls? It’s about an hour plus drive…”

“Yes,” she answered, enthusiastically. “Let me go put my sneaks on.”

It was a nice drive, and the day was nice. I put in a Beatles disc – Magical Mystery Tour – and away we went. We didn’t spend much time on the main route, turning down a narrow two-lane road that wound through the countryside.

“It’s really pretty here,” Summer mused. “I could see myself moving… I think I get why you did. I mean, besides to get away from… everyone.”

I laughed at that. “Getting away from everyone was part of it, but just a small part. It’s like a little corner of heaven for me.”

“And freedom.” Her voice sounded wistful just then, so I simply nodded, rolling down my window to let the fresh air in.  After a while, she undid her braid and then did the same, letting the wind blow her hair messily about, something she seemed to enjoy, judging from her smile.

Trees lined the road, creating beams of dappled sunlight between the leaves and branches. It was enchanting. Romantic even, though I really didn’t want to dwell on that. In spots, low stone walls flanked us, sometimes well kept, other times in disrepair. Back from the road, we passed farmhouses and yards. A barn. Horses. Sheep. An orchard or two. I’d seen it all before, of course, but Summer hadn’t. She, like I, had grown up in Southern California. A long way away from anything like this and she seemed to be taking it in with a real relish.

“Come out here often?”

“No. Well, often enough.”

“I would. Be nice to have a house out here. Have my own garden, maybe.”

She seemed thoughtful, so I left her alone with that and continued driving until we reached a crossroad, the road ahead narrow and unpaved. That was the one I wanted.

“Close. Another ten, fifteen minutes.”

“Okay.”

I slowed down, knowing the road suddenly ended at the creek. Yes, there was a small stone bridge crossing it but it was too narrow for my truck or any other motor vehicle. Just wide enough for two people on foot, side by side….

“Here we are,” I announced, simply stopping the car and putting it in park.

“Wow.”

‘Wow’ was a good way to describe it. Unlike the falls, I’d finished the picture of the small bridge. It had an otherworldly charm that I had managed to capture to my satisfaction. To date, in fact, that had been my biggest sale…

“It’s kind of like something out of a fairy tale…”

I’d had the same thought. And Summer fit right in. She already had her shoes off. She’d left them on the hood, in fact, and was walking around barefoot, not seemingly bothered. I’d had the foresight, of course, to bring my camera. It went everywhere with me, normally, and now, with Summer around, I didn’t want to miss a single opportunity to take photos. And so I did, although this time It wasn’t in a frenzy, eager to capture every moment. Instead, it was the occasional picture as I followed her over to the bridge. Again, she seemed oblivious to the camera when it was on her, but not to me when it wasn’t, teasing me with a smile, sticking her tongue out at me, posing demurely once or twice like you’d expect a model to do. Those were the shots I didn’t take. The ones I wanted were the ones when she’d forgotten I was there and got lost in the moment. I wanted the ones of Summer being Summer…

“How old is it?”

“The bridge? Not sure. A couple hundred years, I suspect.”

“Wow. Ancient.”

I Laughed. By LA standards, yeah. By European standards? Practically brand new.”

I watched as she leaned over the side of the bridge, peering down at the rushing water below, pushing herself up on her toes, bent, elbows resting on the stones, hair hanging down so that it hid her face…

It was too perfect to pass up. I stook shot after shot until she stood again, turning towards the other side, this time simply resting her hands on the flat surface while gazing upstream.”

“The waterfalls that way?”

“About a quarter of a mile, maybe a little more. There’s a trail on the other bank.”

She found it easily, setting out, sneakers long forgotten, though she took her time and stepped carefully. I was content to follow, more focused on her delightful ass and her exposed back than the noisy water just below us. She wasn’t wearing a bra. That was obvious. I was pretty confident that she wasn’t wearing panties either.

She’d stop every once in a while, mostly to examine something interesting, whether it was a gathering of toadstools or an outbreak of wild poppies. I admit to laughing when she was startled by a red squirrel sprinting across the path and up a nearby tree and then chittering angrily at us until we passed. Thankfully, she seemed amused as well once she realized she was in no danger.

Eventually, we reached a place where we could hear the faint sound of water falling. Summer paused, turning towards me with a smile, one which I returned. Picking up her pace, she led us around a moss-covered boulder and came to a dead stop.

It wasn’t very big. Just a little taller than me. Water came sluicing over a stone lip, falling like a curtain into a pool that was maybe six or seven feet across. It was noisy, but not loud enough to drown out our voices.

“Wow.” It was, apparently, her favorite word I’d noticed.

“Wow,” I agreed. What it lacked for in size, it made up for in charm and beauty. Droplets of spray hung in the air near where the cascading waters hit the pool’s surface while the rest rippled gently outwards, lapping against the rocks surrounding it.

Summer tested the water with her toes, giggling as she turned towards me. “It’s pretty chilly.”

I just smiled, shrugging as I joined her, standing at her side, camera forgotten for now. I’d loved this place since the day I’d discovered it, the result of a wrong turn. I assumed others knew about it but in all the time I’d been visiting I’d never seen any sign of anyone else.  Breathtaking as it was, she transformed it into something else entirely. Something almost magical.

I moved away from the pool, sitting down on a rounded boulder, squarely behind her, intoxicated, admiring the shape of her ass, the line of her spine, the inward curve of her waist… a soft breeze teased at the wisps of her golden red hair, more auburn as the sun broke through the trees above, kissing and forming a faint rainbow on the far side of the pool.

I felt… contentment as well as anticipation as I watched her. Yes, there was lust in my heart, but there was also something more.  An appreciation for beauty. She was desire given life, after all.  An unpainted vision come to life. It sounds silly, yes, but it felt right so I simply accepted it.  What would happen, I wondered. Maybe nothing. Maybe she’d simply enjoy the view, taking in the quiet majesty of the place. Maybe she’d come join me on my rock and we’d sit for a while in companionable silence.

A baser side pictured her sitting on my lap, dress up around her waist, riding me, moaning as I thrust into her, her pussy grasping my cock until I erupted inside of her. Or her lips around it, gazing up at me, her eyes dreamy and lust, my fingers stroking her hair, clenching as I came…

I was hard. I wondered what she would do or say if I simply unzipped and pulled my cock out, stroking slowly as I gazed at her. I was tempted. So tempted, and yet I did nothing. I simply observed…

I watched as she sat on the edge of the pond, pulling her knees up to her chest, clasping her legs to her, arms wrapped around her calves. She turned her head, showing me her profile. She had a faraway look, as if she was gazing out on something only she could see.  Perhaps she was.  Perhaps she was simply thinking of… I had no idea. I suddenly realized how little I knew of her.  I wanted to learn more…

She began unfolding her legs, dipping her feet into the water, letting out a soft cry and pulling them out quickly. I knew from experience just how cold the water was. Giggling, she tried again. I watched her bare back, a shiver running up it and down her arms. This time she kept them in, sliding from her perch into the deceptively deep water. She let out a scream of surprise that quickly turned to laughter as she found herself submerged up to her waist, her hand splashing against the surface. I couldn’t help myself. I started laughing. She turned slowly around and grinned, her arms clutched beneath her breasts.

“I’m going to freeze to death and you think it’s funny,” she accused, although she never once stopped smiling. Her nipples, by the way, tented her dress. I’m sure the cold had something to do with that…

“You could have warned me, Noel.”

“I never told you to get in.”

She stuck her tongue out at me, making a face, a gesture I returned, setting her off into peals of shivering laughter as she turned away from me and waded slowly towards the falls, taking it slowly, her steps careful, obviously unsure of her footing.  Without thinking, I started shooting her, wanting to capture this scene in more than just my memory.

I can’t say I was surprised when she reached behind her waist and neck, untying her dress so that it fell. She had her back to me so I was unable to see her tits. I was patient, though. I kept watching her, though the lens of my camera, my finger tapping the shutter open and close, zooming in on her, and then out again, wanting to capture the entire scene as I put aside my lust for the moment. This, I thought. This is what I want to paint. This moment in time.  I could feel something about to happen. The perfect moment just over the horizon…

She reached the falls, hands out, letting the water hit her palms, sluicing through her fingers, splashing her. She screamed again. Not loudly or shrilling. Like a thrill-seeker on a roller coaster. Pivoting, she showed me her profile. It was perfect. Her small round breasts were the perfect size for her slender frame. Her ass looked as if someone had drawn it. How else could it be so… so right. Everything about her was perfect.  She stood there, letting me capture the moment as she pushed her dress from her hips, disappearing suddenly, the water hiding everything below her shoulders. When she stood again, she was naked, her dress floating on the surface of the pool, moving slowly away from her, towards the outlet. I wondered if I should rescue it before it got pulled into the creek and washed downstream.

I forgot all about it as she stepped under the falling water, still for a brief moment, a moment that, thankfully, I captured on film. Then let out another cry of delight and started pushing her way, as fast as she could, towards the far shore, laughing as she reached it and pulled herself out, water sliding from her naked body. Our eyes met and she smiled. It as a languid smile. If I didn’t know better I’d think she was stoned. I captured that, too and then I focused on her breasts and her incredibly stiff nipple, water glistening on them. Not just there… on her pussy, too. Her lovely smooth pussy, her lips parted slightly, revealing a strip of luscious pink…  Silently, I willed her to reach down and run her fingers between her lips, to part them wider for me. To lose herself in pleasure…

Instead, she turned her back on me and made her way along the curve of the pool to where the water flowed downstream. There was a rock there, about the same size as the one I’d sat myself on while watching her.  Instead of sitting, she climbed on top of it, standing, illuminated by the sun as she warmed herself…

She practically glowed, or so it seemed, golden sunlight streaming down upon her, a nimbus of light kissing her hair and face for a flash, so quickly that I thought I might have imagined it before it was gone.

I took a few more shots and then, feeling like the moment was over, sat once more and watched her as she got down of her stone pedestal and wandered downstream a few yards, bending over and brushing her fingers against a burst of wild poppies.

Eventually, I made my way over to her, crossing the creek easily enough with the help of a pair of conveniently placed stepping stones. She was still naked, her dress having floated down the stream. I don’t think she minded or even noticed. She took my hand and my pulse began to race, her touch igniting a flash of desire within me. I could feel it throbbing in my loins. Reaching into my pants I adjusted my cock to a more comfortable position, inhaling suddenly at my own touch, shivering as pleasure burned through it.

I wanted more than anything to take her into my arms and kiss her. Not just kiss her. Ravish her. Her fingers clasped mine, squeezing gently, her chin upturned, her lips parting as she looked into my eyes. Deep into my eyes. I thought I saw a question there. Or maybe I imagined it. I felt my heart pounding in my ribs as she rose up on tiptoe, her lips so close to mine, brushing the corner of my mouth softly. Sensuously.

“Thank you for bringing me here.”

And, just like that, the moment was gone. She was back to being Summer. Not the erotic goddess I had glimpsed a moment ago. Not the Summer who stood in the middle of a pond and masturbated while I watched…

Giggling, she pulled me along, her hand still gripping mine, slightly ahead, her ass and tits gently bouncing.  By the time we made it back to the bridge and to my truck, she was mostly dry, although her hair was still damp. Still naked, she hurried to the middle of the bridge, once again posing without actually posing for me, leaning against the low stone parapet, palms flat upon it as she rose up on her toes, her ass pushed out, gazing downstream, possibly wondering where her dress had ended up. I took shot after shot of her like that and then, feeling a little self-conscious, walked out and joined her, standing next to her, not quite touching.

Not a word was said. I don’t know that I could have said anything to make this a more perfect moment, so I kept silent. She did too. What she was thinking I had no clue. Eventually, though, the moment was over and we returned to my truck. I had to chuckle a little. She seemed totally oblivious to the fact that she was sitting on the front seat completely naked, her tits bouncing erotically every time I hit a bump, one arm cocked out of the side window, the other at her side, hand on her thigh.

“You seem comfortable.”

She glanced over, her smile soft, brow slightly furrowed as if I’d caught her in mid-thought.

“I guess I am?”

“Tell me about yourself. I’ve never really asked.”

And so she did, the words coming out slowly. A few at a time, her gaze travelling between my face and the countryside. She wanted to be a writer. She had ever since she’d been a child.  It was the only thing, really, that she could imagine herself being, despite being discouraged by her mother, my sister.

“What kind of writing?”

“Observations, I guess. About life. About people. About… beauty.”

“I’d love to read some of what you’re written sometime.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She turned towards me, looking thoughtful, her soft smile becoming brilliant, clearly pleased, a look of delight in her eyes.

“Okay. Lunch first, though.”

“Lunch first,” I agreed with a wide smile of my own.

Lunch was… have you ever had the pleasure of sitting across the table from a half-naked girl (I’d charitably given her one of my t-shirts to wear when we’d returned. As always, her nipples made lovely dents in it.) as she daintily ate cold pasta? Saying that it was nice doesn’t give it nearly enough credit. God, I was hard. As for Summer, she was giggly, mostly because at some point she realized my problem.

“If you need to go take a ‘nap’,” she suggested after I’d gotten up to get a couple of beers, “I can entertain myself for a while.”

I coughed a bit at that. I’m sure I blushed, too, after mumbling about my condition being her fault. She seemed to get a kick out of that, so I changed the subject.

“So. You write.”

“Yeah,”

“Published?”

“You mean stuff I’ve actually been paid for? Some poems. Prose. Shorts stories. I have a more that hasn’t been. A novella that I’m trying to get a publisher for. A collection I’m working on. I’m… this trip. Europe? I’ve been taking notes…”

I felt my left eyebrow lift and she blushed.

“Don’t worry. I say nice things about you.”

That made me chuckle. “Smart girl. After all, I’m feeding you.”

That got me a cheeky grin and a hint of something devilish in her eyes. This too, I was learning, was Summer. Seems I had a lot to learn about her, in fact, which reminded me.

“You said I could read something.”

“It’s not after lunch yet.”

Saying nothing, I set a beer down in front of her, taking a pull from mine, and pretended to watch her eat. Mostly, I stared at her perfect nipples, aching to touch them once more, glad that she couldn’t see below the table top.

We went outside with fresh brews and sat on the porch, her tablet between us, her expression shy as she opened up a folder, turning it towards me so I could read.

Poppies in the Snow was the title. I expected… I’m not sure what I expected from my twenty-year-old giggling half-naked niece who wasn’t at all shy about masturbating in front of me. Something sexy, maybe, or romantic. Something girly. Not what I read. It was sexy or, rather, there was a dream-like sensuality that bordered on erotic. I glanced up at Summer who was putting a lot of energy into pretending I wasn’t here as she stared off into the distance. There was a sense of melancholy, of longing, in her tale of a girl waiting through a long winter’s night for her lover to return from a war, burning his love letters, one by one, in the heath to keep from freezing to death. There was a sense of surrealism to it that I could relate to, as well. A little like a painting come to life.

“Wow,” I told her when I’d come to the end.

“Yeah?”

“This is good.”

“You didn’t expect it to be good, did you?”

I shook my head, then nodded sheepishly. “I expected it to be good. Just not… this good.”

She sat up a little straighter, a look of pride on her face.

“Can I read more?”

“No.”

“No?”

She giggled and took the tablet away from me, fingers tapping on the screen, then pushing it in front of me once more

“This one… yesterday at the pond… it’s a little bit like that. I think you’ll like it.”

I did. While ‘Poppies in the Snow’ had felt a little like a painting this piece felt was Monet’s work come to life. Vibrant and yet dreamlike. Colorful. Wistful. Lush. It was… not smut. Erotic, though. Two lovers, women, entangled on the bank of a pond, surrounded by meadow, discussing the art of gardening while making love to each other. I liked that there was a sense of humor woven throughout the increasingly steamy story. Fuck. If she hadn’t been sitting right there I could have easily gotten off with Eljza and Margot…

“I was thinking about just doing a collection of erotic stories, but I don’t know. It’s more fun to slip them in on occasion. Like easter eggs,” she said, taking her tablet from me and pushing her chair back.

“I’ll be going to go write for a while. In my room. You should do some drawings. Or paint. Or…” she giggled again before disappearing into the house. Fuck. The suggestions of ‘or’ tempted me, if she was suggesting I disappear into my room and jerk off to her photos again. Fuck fuck fuck.

Instead, I decided to use the sexual tension built up within to create. The house was very quiet for hours. In fact, by the time she emerged, the sky was dark and I had put paint on canvas in what would eventually become ‘Summer Wading in Pond’… but I’m getting ahead of myself…

Once again, it was decided that we’d go out for dinner, meaning that she had to put something on besides one of my shirts.

“I’m going to have to do laundry tomorrow. Just about out of clean clothes.”

“What you’re wearing is fine. We’ll make a trip to the laundromat, first thing after breakfast.”

What she was wearing was just fine. She liked dresses. Sundresses to be exact. This one was red with white polka and had a bow, left much of her back uncovered, and sported a large bow at the small of her back. It was also relatively short, but not criminally so. She also had a matching bow off to one side of her head.

“You look very chic,” I commented, wondering to myself if she had matching panties. Or if she was even wearing panties.

“Merci beaucoup. You look very handsome yourself,” she replied with a smile as she slipped her arm through mine, letting me escort her to my truck. I’d put some effort into it for once. A pair of black trousers and a pale blue dress shirt. I even put on a relatively unscuffed pair of hiking boots. She, of course, wore sneakers.

“The food is good. Not great, but good. Mostly going for the ambiance,” I told her as I started the engine. “I think you’ll like it. Very bohemian. Full of artists and writers and philosophers, mostly drinking too much and playing cards, but you get the odd interesting conversation and they’re mostly friendly, especially if you’re pretty.”

I chuckled, noting that her cheeks turned pink as she turned away to, apparently, compose herself.

The rest of the ride was quiet, or at least we were. I’d put a jazz station on the radio, thinking it fit into the theme of the night a little.

It was just as I said. A moderately-priced café in the art district. A local watering hole for aspiring artists, musicians, and writers. It was crowded, but not overly so. And noisy, but not so you couldn’t have a decent conversation. The food was good, the onion soup being particularly excellent, and they served spirits. I was known there, but she wasn’t and, as I said, she was a pretty girl. I ended up introducing her to several friends who were drawn, at first, by her looks but ended up talking about less earthy things. Literature and art and theatre. Eventually, and I’m not really sure who steered the conversation in that direction, the subject of erotica took over, something Summer seemed to enjoy sharing her views on. Not that I minded. It was nice to hear her talk, quite honestly, and to watch her grow animated about something she was obviously interested in.

As for me… I mostly mention this because it becomes important to the story later. A young woman, late-twenties perhaps, approached me.

“You are Noel Chapman, oui?”

“Oui.”

“I like your work I saw your last exhibition. I liked it very much. You do interesting things with soft colors.”

Her name was Jennette. No, she wasn’t an artist, she said, although she dabbled. Just an admirer. We had a nice conversation weaving in and out of the one about erotic writings and art. I liked her. In fact, I liked her quite a bit. Had Summer not been there, I might have asked her out. I think she liked me too, seeing as how she gave me her number before she left.

“For when you have your next showing. Or maybe you just want to talk.”

“She was hitting on you,” Summer told me quietly after she’d left.

“Yeah,” I agreed, leaving it at that. She was attractive, seemed interesting, and she liked my paintings. Of course, Summer was all of that too. She was also my niece. I decided I needed a shot of whiskey. And then another. By the time we left, I was a little drunk. Borderline too drunk to drive. It didn’t matter. It was a nice night, the sky was clear and filled with stars and I was with a beautiful young girl.

She slipped her arm through mine as we walked along the avenue. It felt nice. I felt her pressing into me occasionally. She was warm and also a little drunk, I think. 

“Tell me about your writing. Today’s, I mean. What did you write about?”

“You,” she said, quietly, a giggle escaping her mouth. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“Yeah.”

I should have let it go. I almost did. Almost.

“I’m curious now.”

“Good,” she teased, making me laugh.

“You’re terrible.”

I wasn’t really paying attention to where we were going, not that I was concerned about getting lost. I knew this part of town fairly well. It was usually quiet this time of night. Most of the shops and galleries were closed up. Just the occasional café, bistro, or bar were still busy. The street lamps illuminated her nicely. I admired her, not so secretly, noticing, not for the first time this evening, how her dress clung to her like a second skin, her short skirts flaring out to show off her legs, her back bare save for a pair of straps, her breasts clearly outline, her nipples… fuck.

Her nipples. I loved her nipples more than anything else about her. No. That wasn’t true. Her ass was just as magnificent. She turned her head just then, her smile almost quizzical, her chin upturned so she was looking directly into my eyes. I’d never really paid much attention, but I did now. She didn’t wear much make-up. A little eyeliner and lipstick, though it was subtle. That was it. Nail polish doesn’t count, does it? I wasn’t sure. I don’t think it mattered.

“There’s a small square down here,” I told her, turning down a narrow side street. “Be careful. Cobbles are a bit uneven.”

A small square with a fountain in the center and benches surrounded by apartments.  Simple. Quiet. Secluded. I led her to one of them. We sat, her first, me beside her, nearly touching. I could still feel the warmth of her body against mine. The light was softer here, bathing her in delicate illumination. Sensual and dreamy, or at least, I thought so in my semi-drunken state.

“I wrote about our trip out to the waterfall, trying to capture it again as I remember it. While it was still fresh in my thoughts. There’s a certain magic experiencing something for the first time…”

She laid her hand on my thigh and was quiet for a while, fingertips pressing gently. I’m not sure for how long. Time seemed to be standing still.

“Just describing the countryside. It was so very different than anything back home. It felt… frozen in time. OrTo continue reading this story you must be a member. Join for FREE here.