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Click hereThis felt erotic when it happened, although reading about it may seem less so. Here it is anyway!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
She'd felt like she was in prison for so long
that it seemed perfectly natural to release
the chains her garments placed on her body
Squeezing water from wet hipster panties
and flinging them at the pond's shore in the moonlight
Pulling the oversized tee over her head and throwing it
as far as she could, toward sniffing dogs and the water
rippling against the bank as she swam in place
She turned a crooked flip, came up facing the wrong direction
she told everyone not to look but didn't care what they saw
This was her chance at freedom
one night when she wasn't bound
and didn't care who saw her flesh peek
delicately above the surface of the water
When her time was up, she reclaimed the shirt
But the panties nowhere in sight
left her to wander the bank, searching
knowing it was better she find them
than the dogs bring them to her mom's doorstep in the morning
And there they were, finally, a wad of blue and green
She squeezed the water from them and dripped her way to the car
Her last bit of freedom was the feel of driving home without them
Rough blue jean fabric pressing hard against her cold, damp skin
When she pulled into her driveway at 2AM
Home again at her prison
Not a teenager. It was in my mom's pond! :)
Thanks for the feedback.
might improve with some editing, very descriptive, maybe less so would add a little mystery, last line is the zinger (is it needed or is it too mundane, we all feel that way, i.e. every home is a prison of sorts), leave out "mom" to make more universal and less a teenager if that is the case, my opinion but do as you wish