sexless f-solo

I've been walking this creek bank for a long time. It has always been may
place to collect my thoughts and reflect on events in my life. It was my way
of seeing through the smoke of it all. The sound of water rushing over rocks
and licking at the bank was the only noise to keep me form hearing myself
breathe as I walked. This day in particular I walked farther than usual and
I started seeing parts of the path I had never seen before. It was on this
day that I found her.

Around a sharp bend in the creek and just beyond a clump of water oaks I
came upon a cypress wood house very neat but very rustic in appearance. I
could see the tin roof dull in spots and shining in others, just across the
water on the bank opposite me. A long porch down its side pitched out and
shadowed two open windows and an open door. Long wide planks serving as
stairs fell from the porch to the ground and the cypress trunk pilings
underneath made it look like it had grown out of the ground like the other
trees all around it. As I stood there admiring its beauty movement from the
shadow of the door drew my eye toward it. Spanish moss obstructed my view
slightly so I moved around to get a closer look. I saw her step down on the
first step of the porch and sit down. She was wearing a very faded pair of
cut off jeans and a white t-shirt tied at the midriff exposing her stomach
and navel. Her hair was slightly straight with a little curl at it's ends
falling down around her neck and shoulders. She propped her bare feet on the
next step down and they rose to knees, turned to thighs then disappeared
into faded denim just before exposing their inevitable end. As I watched her
and imagined what I could not see, the movement of her slender fingers
caught my eye. She handled something round between them. She watched it
pensively as she turned it round and round between her palms. When I
anticipated the bite with the opening of her mouth I was teased because she
did not bite. There was the parting of lips, the touch of a tongue then the
slightest rake of teeth...but no bite.

She savored the taste, licked her lips then nipped back a slip of skin that
covered the top of the succulent fruit. Squeezing ever so gently with
forefinger and thumb her chin pushed forward to catch the first drop of
juice forming where she had nipped earlier. I could taste it too just
watching her.

I licked my own lips as she began to bite. Something like hunger washed over
me with the juice that ran down her chin, neck and cleavage. Letting loose
of the fruit with one hand her fingers traced the path of wetness from the
base of her neck down her chin and lips then back to the fruit again.

With a sudden passion she sucked, bit, licked and tasted every drop of juice
and every bite of flesh turning the object all the while inside her hands.
The last bits of fruit clung to the pit and she bit at them with edge of her
teeth and sucked it naked with lashing lips and tongue. The fruit gone, the
juice spent she tossed the pit to the side and licked each of her fingers
slowly sucking them clean.

Rising again to her bare feet holding fingers spread and hands away from her
side she turned bare back toward me, removed the t-shirt and stepped to go
inside. As I strained to see her I thought I saw her look back over her
shoulder, lick her lips and wink before shadows took her away from me.

I walk this creek bank often. It is my place to collect my thoughts and
clear the smoke that gathers with the passing week. Sometimes my walks take
me farther than I should go, but the walk is usually worth it.