on every patch of skin

On every patch of bare skin the sun played its solar fingers along my solar plexus, reaching up to brush the curves of both breasts along the edge of the bikini top, every pore relaxed to its attending warmth and glistening. I’m covered yet uncovered, at the whim of wide open sky and all who stare down upon me lying here bathing, basking, like a snake about to shed its skin and become born to a new spring day.

The grass beneath the towel beneath me, it’s cooling green offsets the intensity of the emerging day inside my small garden surrounded as it is by high wooden fencing beyond which are other gardens, pavements, roads, passing cars out of sight and buildings whose only topmost floors can look down to see my private haven from the world outside. And still the sun rises higher with whom I share my bare skin not covered by my bikini.

A morning out from the madness of other peoples lives which go on regardless unaware of me communing with the silence inside my cocoon.

Eyes closed behind my sunglasses, deep and dark where none would tell if they were open or not but they weren’t.  Wide awake but lost in an increasing reverie as my skin drank the sun-soaked air that barely brushed my skin across which I absent-mindedly ran the fingers of one hand over and around my naked tummy, around my belly-button, tracing beneath my ribcage then along one rib, two, my slender frame, all of 5’3, no longer concerned with height being prone so close to earth between that and forever and ever sky.

My fingers continued exploring the underside of my bikini top, its black-speckled trim til they found the soft plastic centre buckle which in my mind I drew its perfect round grey smoothness, almost like a pebble with a hole sea-worn through it.  My fingers further flowed loosely along the edge along the triangle of my right cup hiding my small C-cup and pink nipple protected from the sun eyes and also those of any other would-be onlooker, which I’m sure there wouldn’t be.

I hugged my arm to me as my fingers felt for the top frill that adorned the cup where they followed the trim further into my cleavage, not pronounced and even less so lying down as my breasts lightly spread sedately at rest against me.  MY other hand rested only moving slightly upon my ever-warming tummy as my fingers moved around my cleavage focusing on one freckle I know to be there as I know my body very well, after all I’ve lived with it all my life. My hand began to feel almost separate from me, other, as though belonging to someone else even though it was my hand that moved lovingly inch by inch as the ever-climbing sun continued to look on like a voyeur of the most respectful kind.

My fingers now crossed to my other cup and rested palm down over it and my breast, a part of me I’ve felt myself many times, every day, but not always so seductively.  The lycra was soft beneath as I pressed and caressed it into my boob, imaging the abstract blue Picasso print coming alive on the material itself, tiny molecules excited by the suns continuing attention to every details on my torso and limbs.  I squeezed and felt s shudder wash through me like a wave spreading up from my toes, over my knees, across my hips and tummy to crash over my breasts.  I did it again and again.  My hand was not my hand, but it was, but it wasn’t.  I lifted my left knee to rest against my stretched-out right leg.

I let my hand enjoy the feel of my body as it returned to the other cup to do the same to make sure it didn’t feel left out of this moment. My eyes remained closed, I licked my lips tasting the gloss I kissed to my lips previously, and my hand discovered my breasts as though it was the first time. My hand. Not my hand. I felt captured, open, relaxed and alert, and very alive.  A flower feeling the sun for the first time and just can’t believe how wonderful it feels on its petals and leaves and stamens as it feels its own nectar offering itself openly to all and every passing bee and hoverfly.

The hand upon my tummy made larger circles brushing each time around the waist of my bikini-brief bottom as my breasts enjoyed a wayward touch becoming ever more wayward, even more adventurous, ever more curious until I slide it beneath one cup to touch my nipple which I felt instantly grow, erect I felt it press against the lycra which were my bikini wet it would unquestionably show through. My fingers encircled it still held inside my cup which gave easily to my hand slipping underneath, as it would any hand.

I was aware of the sun, aware of the grass, of the soft towel along my back and the backs of my legs, I was aware of my hand enticing my nipple to even more life which it did easily now, no doubt encouraged by the sun streaming down and over me, a gleaming lover with darker motives.  I felt it the tie around my neck pull, gently, as my whole hand now was inside and caressing my breast, until I teased away the cup.  Should I?  Eyes still closed but I knew I was outside, the sun told me that, and I knew however private this garden was at ground level it may not have been as much from the third floor up the 5 floor apartments overlooking.

Nevertheless I did, I pulled the cup away as it easily did and instantly felt the sun almost grab it too and revel in yet more skin to kiss and tempt.  My nipple now erect, I circled the aureole and enticed it ever further now exposed to the sky, and any other eyes in the sky. My whole hand almost tantalisingly teasing I had forgotten about my other.  How could I have done that, yet I had, and with a sudden realisation was aware it had moved down over my bottoms and over my mound and was gently circling, pressing the lycra, the fabric, against it where as I lay there I knew the pubic bone became more pronounced as my stomach concaved.  One knee still bent I felt my hips squirm a little, side to side then up and down. Something irresistible swelled inside me refusing to be ignored.  The sun seemed to know this and continued to stare down take me in its arms and drive me deeper into whatever this was becoming.

I wanted my breasts free and at first peeled away the other cup to show the sun, still with my eyes closed, and felt the cleavage buckle pressing as though telling me to take the next step.  Which I did, reaching around to the back of my neck, caught the knot and pulled one end untying the string until I felt a loosening across my breasts and my chest and let the halter fall away revealing  them, just as I felt the sun had wanted all along.  I obeyed leaving it loose upon me still tied around my back but now no longer covering my nipples which seemed to revel in the freedom and the direct warmth of this ever-demanding sun which grew I felt in size and intensity.

I caressed my breasts now having retrieved my other hand from my thighs but only to let it return again, in fact both now as I pressed my arms against my ribs and stretched them out until they lay on my thighs pressing the material against my mound again, rubbing invitingly, the sun has taken control of my fingers which now pressed its softness between my thighs and motioned along my own tingling petals.  My eyes still closed I felt perhaps I should stop but, but, I couldn’t, surely no one could see so what was the harm.  I was the suns puppet, bound by its radiating strings controlling me, my arms my legs, every part of my body as it proceeded to take me further having unveiled my breast completely to its ravenous gaze, nipples now pert, being offered.  I offered.  I was its slave, a slave to its needs, desires and demands.

My breasts pushed together as I stretched my arms and found my hands sliding away the waistband on my bikini bottoms and slipping beneath wanting more from me, more of me.  The sun was far from finished with me.  They found my bare mound, smooth as I prefer it to be, the pubic bone and my vulva surrounding my folds that I knew now to be moist and flushed much pinker than my skin.   I touched and played and knew one hand now filled them tugging against the side ties, their knots also straining to be… to be freed.

I thought perhaps I had been taken far enough by now, the suns constant irresistible caressing, but seemed now as I let one hand take the end of one knot and pull, and pull, as I thought no, no, but still it pulled, I pulled, the sun pulled until it came away loosened leaving them now loosened, past the point of no return.   I teased them away as the sun whispered to me to do.  I didn’t have to do what it told me but, Bu I did have to do exactly what it told me.   I pulled them away feeling a shadow that was briefly covering now came away to be consumed by the ever-rising higher orb of fire. Away they came easily, the blue abstract print now resting upon on bare leg, my top the same, resting inside out on my tummy.  My inner thighs now fully exposed to its glare, heat, lust.   It wanted me and I couldn’t deny I wanted it, to feel its burning against every inch of my naked skin and it was determined to have me.

My mind reeled and my body began to quietly writhe under its weight as I left my knee fall off to one side opening my now and allowing my fingers to part myself, my folds and explore my small clit now aroused beyond redemption other than to keep going, keep going, all the way.  I slipped a finger then two inside my thighs and moved inside and out, feeling, spreading my nectar over the softness of my sex with one hand not pinching a nipple, exciting me further as if that were possible as I lay there in my dishevelled bikini and body on show, naked for all it was worth.

I pressed my inner thighs and slipped over and inside, around and between, finding more pleasure with every touch, every second, every lick of the suns tongue.  I pulled up my straightened leg and let that fall the opposite way now opening myself even wider, my soft inner, vulnerable and pale thighs at the suns mercy, at its gaze, at any gaze.  My eyes still closed I knew my body so well, my thighs open like this, how much was exposed, how much on offer. No going back.  My fingers grew more feverish, more determined as the sun grabbed them and moved them for me in and over, over and around, in between. I arched my back, lifted my buttocks slightly, rocked back and forth, my eyes closed, I was forced to masturbate by a power much greater than me and I surrendered unquestioning, I gave in to its needs and to my own.  I became frantic, trying not to make a sound, biting my lip although I wanted to scream, to tell the sun to use me, to make me, to smother me completely.

the sun kept its distance at the same time wrapped around me while watching and touching, my eyes closed, all I needed was touch, feel, inside I felt an eruption and my stomach and thighs bucked forcing me to snap my legs closed on my hand and explode in a supernova, I thought I had burst into flames as I gripped my sex and came with an intensity that only happens in the open air, on view, exposed to whoever might be watching alongside the suns greedy glare.  I felt it grab the bones of my hips and press one more time as I resigned to coming again, a second time, further crushing my fingers inside myself and curling into a tiny ball to roll over onto my left side.  I was in the womb again, safe, held, heart racing like a new-born desperate to be born, reborn in my case.  I remained flooded in my own aftermath for several minutes, maybe longer, as alongside the heat came a cool breeze wafting itself over me like a sweet soothing, an antidote to the burning, wrapping itself over me not enough to cool but just enough to relax as I remained laying there naked but for the remains on my bikini draped uselessly from me and my smiling self.

On every patch of bare skin the sun played its solar fingers along my shoulder blades on every patch of skin holding me just close enough as I wondered, apart from the sun, who else might have seen, watched, my blatant surrendering, I wondered…..

on every patch of skin

© 2018 Emmaleela


  1. I just re-read,I love this piece. Don’t know how I missed it but it jumped out at me that in this piece, your mound is now bare. I think it used to be trimmed but with hair present. Do you I think it is more feeling and sensitive to the touch (your own or someone else’s) I have been bald down there since I can remember. Looks better, feels better, smells better, and more sensitive to the touch. If I touch your bare mound, you can write a story about it. (And I will make it an adventure) I promise to let you.
    But aside from all kidding, you are a master with words, who I admire.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. i Love when you explore your self, sometimes even more than when others explore you even in front of someone else (some of my favs) . But i match your excitement with my own. And maybe cum if you get excited enough to.

    Liked by 1 person

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