Summer Vignettes: Sundress

It's early June. They're at the college baseball game in the park. He likes sports; she doesn't. She brought a picnic blanket and thermoses of iced tea and lemonade. She leads him to underneath the bleachers. There's hardly a view of the game here. It's shady and secluded. She spreads out the blanket, sits back on her elbows, sips lemonade. She pours him an iced tea, kicks off her flip-flops, lets her toes dangle in the grass at the edge of the blanket. She's wearing a blue sundress, white piping, buttons down the front. Her legs are smooth; her skin is pale and looks soft, innocent, unlike the deep tan and halter-tops of the other girls.

They've been together before but it seems new, spring and summer, fresh grass, flowers, new love. Cliché; delightful. He tries to follow the game and keeps glancing back at her: brown eyes, barrettes in her hair, pearl earrings. There's a slight breeze. Her cardigan is white, keeping her warm. Her pink painted toenails tuck up under her skirt to keep cozy.

He's wearing a pink-checkered shirt, jeans, sneakers and no socks. He feels stuck in the 1950's and loves it, slipping a hand in between her cardigan and her dress tentatively. She's not wearing a bra; he can feel her heavy breast against the soft blue fabric. He looks up at her face as he finds her nipple, sees her delight. Swoop, swoop, his fingers move across the fabric, then he grabs her by the waist and kisses their first kiss again. Her mouth is a lovely willing form, full lips, slightly parted. He tastes lemonade and lip-gloss, then the sweet surface of her poking tongue. He pulls back, looks at her smile, feels carefree and kisses her again.

He always has to stop to look, gaze at her, in between their kisses. "Sentimental shit," he'd pass it off gruffly, but get caught up in her smile, her fluttering eyes, long lashes again and again. He pushes the cardigan off her shoulder, kisses along her shoulder, pushes the strap of her dress out of the way, then rights it. Never too much, too soon, and he's a bit shy in public. He repeats the process with the other shoulder; there is no bra strap to get in the way, which reminds him anxiously of what's underneath the pale cotton. He scuttles kisses across her chest, the exposed area above the white piping. Her breasts form lovely cleavage without any assistance, but he holds her ribcage in support as he buries his face in her breasts.

She giggles, and he glances up, making her throw her head back in a full-fledged laugh. Her cheeks are rosy and her expression vivacious. His groin tightens and he returns his face to her breasts, kissing harder, letting his tongue tease. Her giggles become gasps. He tells himself he'll just undo the first button on her dress, that's all, and quickly slips it open.

One more and he might reach her nipple, he thinks, and pops open the next one, then two. She's mewling little cries as he nuzzles, then cups her breasts with both hands before slipping the buttons open to her waist. He kisses the bits of torso that were showing, then took her nipple in his mouth, twisting so his face absorbed as much of her delicate skin as possible. She moans, wrapping an arm around his head, pulling him towards her. Her small hands are clutching at his shirt, untucking it and grasping at his skin.

He feels her desperation and lets his hand drift to her leg, finds the hem of her dress and slowly slides it up. Her thighs are silky near the knee, damp as he travels upwards. She's pleading, moving her hips towards him, but he doesn't automatically comply. Her reaches her hot, wet desire and strokes the trimmed fuzz above it, slides his thumb ever so gently in a circle around her lips. He circles again, picking up moisture, getting both of them more aroused. He groans when he slips a finger inside, feels her clenching in pleasure, slick and naughty. The innocent looking sundress is still covering his movements; her breasts are still exposed and he moves to suckle them again. His hand cups her whole sex, his palm brushing her clit as he maneuvers two fingers into her body. They curve upwards, slipping easily along the textured wall that makes her cry out for more.

He wants to slip under her dress and taste her, but the roar of the crowd above him on the bleachers holds him back. He instead kisses her stomach, licks towards her breasts, tastes sweat, then engulfs her mouth again, tasting lemonade and wiggling his fingers.

She breaks their kiss because she is panting, grinding into his hand violently. The brush of his thumb over her clit has been accidental until now, when he lets it press into her need. He pulls his fingers out of her pussy and brusquely rubs her clit, drawing liquid from inside her to lubricate it. His fingers plunge quickly back into her, and a few more thrusts of her hips make her pause while he continues, watching her face and seeing her fingers grab the picnic blanket.

The moan she ends with is indistinguishable, making him want more of her husky cries and dripping sex. He sits up, watches her flushed face turn into a seductive grin, as she leans back and sips lemonade, bending her knee so he can see up her skirt, then slowly buttons up her dress.

He tucks in his shirt, tries to make his erection less obvious, and sucks the taste of her off his fingers while she packs up their picnic supplies.