Natural Nymphs 01: Aetheria

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Aetheria enjoys a summer afternoon alone atop the bluffs.
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Aetheria drifted away from the campsite, leaving behind the barbecue and beer. She slapped her hard pack in her palm and made her way to the bluffs, where her father and her used to fly kites when she was a kid. It was the perfect day for it—a steady but warm wind and lots of bright sun and blue skies for miles. The lake stretched away from the jagged rocks of the shore, interrupted by the occasional speedboat or kayak. Beneath the waves lay broken shells and rocks slick with algae, the kind her plastic flip flops never had the traction for so she would inevitably lose at least one of them in a slip and fall. It never bothered her for long—it was tradition by now. Indeed, her walk to the bluffs was a barefoot one, the high grass brushing against her ankles and the small stones biting her soles.

She found a grassy patch near the edge of the bluffs, the lake waves rolling below and water birds swooping overhead. She folded herself in a cross-legged position and lit a cigarette, squinting at the sky as warmth seeped over her already sun-kissed face. Her toes curled in the earth and she released a happy, smoky sigh.

Summers at the lake always re-lit whatever fire inside her had gone out during the winter. Lazy days like this made the past many months chiseling ice off her windshield, heaving shovelfuls of snow off her sidewalk, and secluding herself away beneath a myriad of layers a distant, unmemorable dream. It was an afternoon that buried the winter that for so long had buried her. Now the layers were gone and she was stripped down to the essentials, to her core. The person she was at the lake was the person she really was. It was criminal to consider the possibility of returning to real life. Not for the first time did she consider never going back.

Aetheria finished her cigarette and slid the butt back in the pack before reclining in the grass. She stretched her arms overhead and pointed her toes with a moan of contentment, lengthening her body and creating space for more good feelings and growth. God, but the sun felt good on her skin. She tangled her fingers together behind her head and steepled her knees, letting them drift from side to side, open and closed, brief tastes of heat on her sweetly sunburned inner thighs. She felt reckless and free and gorgeous, and by the looks of it, alone.

The warm breeze rushed by, making her both sleepy and horny. Merope had brought her new boyfriend to the lake this year, and Atheria'd heard them late last night in the trailer's next room after their parents had passed out post moonlit bonfire and too many beers. They'd been trying to be quiet; she'd heard their hushed tones, sharp gasps, and low rustles, and the way they froze whenever a new, foreign sound would command center stage—an owl, a noisy neighbor, perhaps a deer rustling in the woods. But it was the kind of trying-to-be-silent that was deafening and all consuming—the kind of silence you couldn't avoid overhearing. And the night was so sticky and oppressively hot, with Aetheria sleeping alone, half naked, and confined in the paneled walls of the decades-old trailer with its crumbling roof and mouse-nibbled interiors. She couldn't deny her sister anything—the girl had spent a long time between loves—and this new one adored her. Still, their togetherness amplified her solitude, which wasn't really so bad. In fact, on nights like those, the desire and inability to fulfill it was dizzying, creating a full-body throb that was as pleasurable as it was painful. It was intoxicating to want something that bad.

Now the throb was back, and by now, she found it pointless to ignore. Here, she was home, totally free to be herself and respond to her most primitive, natural of needs. After a glance around to confirm her privacy and the sudden realization she didn't care about it after all, she lifted her hips and peeled her denim shorts and bikini bottoms down and off her legs, kicking them in the direction of her cigarettes. A rush of wind slipped between her thighs, a gusty kiss against the wetness pooling there.

With a greedy groan, she rid herself of her tye-dye shirt—part of her yearly at-the-lake uniform—and opted to leave on her bathing suit top, instead tugging it down just so that her nipples peeked out, hardening against the edge of the fabric. Another firm breeze, another moan. Her knees dropped wide open. Instead of squeezing her eyes shut like she usually did when making love, she kept them open, drinking in the sight of her own nearly naked body made stunning against the endless beauty of the bluffs. The sun beat down on her pussy, and it was easy to imagine a ray of sunlight slipping inside her and sliding into her every vein.

This time the wind swept to the north, and the high grass surrounding her flickered against her clit like sharp but gentle tongues. Her head lolled back and her breasts lifted toward the sky with her labored breath. It wouldn't take much more; it had been a long time and she was so raw and exposed, like an offering.

She rolled her nipples between her fingertips and immersed herself in the feel of the hot sun on her skin. Her whole body felt hot, inside and out. She could imagine the shaft of sun pushing in and out of her, her wetness staining her upper inner thighs, the lips of her pussy glistening. Fuck, she needed to come.

Like an answer to her prayers, the wind rushed by, steady and firm, and the grass drummed a perfect rhythm on her clit. At last she closed her eyes, focusing solely on her enjoyment, her experience. The steady thrum of pressure sent her cresting and then falling, pure bliss rolling through her. Her toes dug deep, and then finally uncurled as she collapsed heavy into the grass, a twist of languid limbs and a hum of satisfaction humming through her.

Sleepy and in no particularly hurry, she lifted her chin toward the canopy of sky overhead. A red diamond, ribbons streaming, put a hiccup in the blue. The kite dipped and dove, chasing the shorebirds as far as its leash allowed.

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