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Rated: XGC · Fiction · Adult · #1860750
a woman spends the afternoon with herself.
Elson shook the heavy raindrops out of her hair. The dirt was caked around her toes and ankles; the smell of the earth embedded in her clothes. Her hands were wet and dirty, soil wedged deep beneath the nails. She had almost finished weeding the entire garden before it had begun to downpour big, swollen drops of cool rain. She had dashed back to the house as the lightning flashed bright cracks in the deep purple sky.

She was soaked through to the bone, her t-shirt and shorts plastered to her body. She stood, shivering in a darkening house. The thunderstorm had put her lights out. She fished around in her kitchen drawers until she found a book of matches. Elson scurried around lighting all the corners with candles, chasing the shadows away with warm, pumpkin-scented glow. It was late August, but the summer was cooling rapidly. She lit a small fire to ward off the chill then curled up on the terracotta tile in front of the flames and listened to the rain ringing against the window panes.

What had it been, four or five months since Jay had left? She had been pushing herself through the time of pain and the loneliness that always came in the wake of a breakup. She was grateful that her business had picked up, it had kept her busy and preoccupied through the worst of it. She would have spent weeks hiding away in her bungalow, afraid to venture out and run the risk of bumping into Jay and his new, young fling. Elson had convinced herself that her replacement must be blond, leggy and impossibly beautiful, how else could she have stolen her loyal, loving Jake away? Elson was short and dark, her body a silhouette of soft curves with a little extra padding, "for the pleasure of the pushing", Jake had used to say.

In the flickering candlelight, Elson caught her reflection in the mirror above the mantle. She studied her image. She was full and soft but she was strong, her arms and limbs sculpted by her hard work turning earth, re-shaping landscapes. She had her mother's heart-shaped face and thick dark locks. Elson tugged her damp tee shirt up over her breasts and slid out of her shorts. She had the same olive-colored skin of her father's people, skin that appeared even darker wrapped in the white underwear. She shifted her body, admiring the richness of that flesh. Her caramel-colored nipples pushed up through the lace of her bra. She absently brushed them with her fingertips, feeling the pleasing sensation all the way to her toes. She traced the hardened tips then arched her back to unhook her bra, letting it slip off her. She admired her breasts in her reflection, cupped them with both hands. Admittedly, they were beautiful breasts, full and high.

She slid her hands down to where the triangle of hair showed dark through her cotton briefs. Her sex was suddenly throbbing and she pressed back tentatively with her fingertips. Elson has always been shy about her body when it came to matters of sex and intimacy, even on the most personal of levels. The urge to touch herself, to please herself, was a new experience for her. Feeling oddly brazen, she twisted out of her underwear. Completely naked now, she gazed back at her reflection. Her skin sparkled in the light from the fire flames, alternating ribbons of shadow and light moving over her in waves. She began to rub and caress herself, awkwardly igniting random sparks of pleasure. Elson's fingers finally found the right rhythm and her clit responded, swelling under her touch. There was a tight, heated sensation building in her stomach and a fine sweat working across the surface of her skin. Her body began the slow undulations that gave away to bucking and twisting as she drove herself toward her climax. Elson felt it rise inside up inside her. She forced her eyes open to watch the spectacle of her masturbating in the mirrored surface. Her body was tense, her breasts heaved and bounced with her movements. Her legs splayed open, granting unfettered access for her working hands. The feverish fingers of one hand rubbed and probed her sex while the other became a gripping talon seeking purchase on the slick tile floor.

Elson orgasm hit her like a train. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt her body overtaken by convulsions that left her limbs weak and shaking. She emitted a long, low moan and ran her hands over her breasts, squeezing, as the aftershocks rippled through her.
Her body seemed to hum like a contented cat as she rocked and curled on the warm floor. Her juices had cleansed the soil from her fingernails and her sweat had washed the scent of tomatoes from her body. She looked again at the woman in the mirror. Elson felt stronger, more powerful, more beautiful than she had in a long time. It wasn’t always so hard to be alone she had decided. She let her tired body drift off to sleep all the while, wondering when she could start weeding tomorrow and what the weather would be like...
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