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When Abby gets home, she’s scorched.
She’s late – she knows because the sky is already tinged orange, painting the landscape in modest sepia tones. The mid-July sun burns well into the evening now, leaving the air warm and sappy and full of life.
Abby’s hair sticks to her neck and small wisps fall into her face, and she’s relieved to be home after a long day out in the sun.
Despite the heat and the cruel humidity, this is Abby’s favorite time of year. Abby loves the summer sun because she knows the sun brings heat, and heat brings bikinis.
She closes the front door behind her with a huff, noticing that the air in the house isn’t much cooler than the air outside. She kicks her shoes off and yanks her ponytail out, unraveling her tight braid while she looks around the house. Usually, you’re waiting by the door when Abby gets home. But today, you’re nowhere to be seen.
“Babe?” Abby calls out for you, peeking her head into the kitchen and wandering down the hall in search of you. She finds the back door open, the golden light from outside leading her into the secluded backyard.
There, she finds you laying on a frayed beach towel, soaking in the remnants of the day’s dwindling light. Your feet kick idly behind you while your head rests on your forearms, facing away from your girlfriend’s presence.
Abby swipes at the sweat beading across her forehead, and even though she’s exhausted by the heat, her energy is renewed by the thought of what you’ve been doing all day under the bright summer sun.
She stalks over to you silently, eyes roaming your exposed skin and the barely-there bikini that does little to cover your backside. The straps that are supposed to hold your top in place are now limp at your sides, the planes of your back entirely on display for Abby’s enjoyment.
She hums out a little sound of appreciation, making her presence known. You shift to face her, a small smile crinkling your relaxed features.
“You’re home,” you murmur, stretching your arms out in front of you and rolling your neck to relieve the idle stiffness in your muscles.
From the looks of it, you’ve been outside all day. Little items are scattered around you – books and sunscreen and anything else you could think to carry out into the yard. Your skin is warm and bronze, and Abby’s eyes are drawn to the crisscrossing lines across your back that show where a summer’s worth of golden tan has been interrupted by the material of your swimsuit.
“Did y’have a good day?” she asks, raking a hand through her crimped hair, trying to brush out the subtle waves left behind from her tight updo.
“Mmhm,” you answer affirmatively, reaching a hand out to motion her closer.
She shuffles towards you before crouching at your side, knees landing on the edge of the shabby towel that you’d spread out on the lawn.
“It was so hot today,” you say, admiring the pink of Abby’s flushed face. The apples of her cheeks are ruddy and dark, and you remind yourself to take care of her developing sunburn when the two of you head inside.
She nods in agreement, letting her fingers trail over your warm skin now that you’re within reach. Her calloused hands trace the curve of your spine, sending a burst of soothing energy through your core. The combination of Abby’s touch and the warmth of the evening air lulls you into a relaxed state, causing your eyes to flutter until they’re shut.
“Your top’s undone,” she comments, entranced by the sheen of sunscreen glistening against your skin.
“I don’t want tan lines.”
She scoffs under her breath, running her fingers over the faint stripes left behind from previous days spent outside. “It’s a little late for that.”
Her fingers slips under the waistband of your bottoms, pressing softly into the warm skin there until you snap back into focus, looking back over your shoulder at her.
“Maybe these should come off too then,” she suggests in a slow voice. “You’ll get tan lines.”
A short nod is enough of an answer for the blonde, and her fingers work to untie the strings at each hip. The garment slips free and Abby pulls the loose bottoms from around your waist.
Her hands come up to grip the globes of your ass, fingers digging into the flesh like she doesn’t know her own strength.
“So pretty,” she murmurs, swinging one knee over your form to straddle you from behind.
With quick fingers, she slips the untied top from beneath you, throwing it somewhere in the yard without much care.
Your face falls into the crook of your arm as Abby’s hands return to your backside. Her hips shift against your ass, hinting at the friction you’re desperate to receive.
“Abby,” you mutter into your arm. “Need you – need your fingers.”
Her digits press gently into the dip of your lower back, massaging the muscles there with lazy pressure. “Need my fingers here? Is that what y’wanted?”
Your response is something indecipherable, a combination of pleasure and frustration fueling your muddled thoughts. Abby seems to understand anyway and she shuffles back to rest her weight on the backs of your legs, giving her just enough room to part your thighs.
“Thought about you all day,” she says, ghosting her fingers over your center. “Laid out in the yard, looking so sweet for me – wanted me to come home and find you like this, huh?”
Your hips buck in impatience and Abby quickly settles you back in your place. “Sit still, pretty. Wanna fuck my girl nice and slow.”
Two thick digits delve into your core, parting your slick walls with a delicious pressure.
“Worked so hard today,” she says mainly to herself, scissoring her fingers to gently stretch your cunt. “Now it’s my turn to relax.”
Breathy moans fill the air, reverberating off the wooden fence that encloses your yard. Abby’s speed picks up, her fingers pumping into your cunt faster than your languid mind can keep up with.
She slides in and out in quick motions, drawing slick down her knuckles and onto your inner thighs.
“That’s it, pretty. Show me how good it feels.”
Abby thrusts her fingers into you a couple more times before changing course and sliding them out entirely. Before you can complain, she grabs you by the waist, pulling your ass into the air and pushing back into you.
The new angle allows Abby to move deeper into your cunt, curling her fingers up and pressing into that spongey spot at the top of your walls. With her free hand, she reaches around the front of you to rub messy circles over your clit.
“Pretty pussy’s sucking my fingers in,” she says. “Sounds fuckin’ beautiful.”
With her fingers working at a steady pace, her hips begin to follow suit, shifting slightly in stride with her movements. Her dense thighs smack into the backs of your legs, reminding you of her familiarity with this position.
“Takin’ me so good,” she grunts, becoming rougher with her movements. “Gonna take you inside and fuck you properly after this. Stretch you around my cock until you’re crying.”
Her promise fuels the tightness that had been building in your core, and with a few more strokes of her fingers, the pressure snaps and brings you to a finish.
The hand rubbing at your clit moves to grab your waist to hold you up, keeping you from sinking onto the hard ground beneath you. Abby slows her fingers inside of you, coaxing out the end of your orgasm before she’s pulling her fingers out and slipping them into her mouth.
She moans as the taste of sunscreen and sweat and you settles on her tongue.
Before you have time to catch your breath, she’s on her feet and pulling you up to stand on shaky legs.
“C’mon, let’s go inside. We’re not finished.”