She was bored, restless, a little too hot. The summer heat had gotten to her. She’d been out in the woods around their house picking wild berries. Her fingers were purple from the juice, her lips flush and stained. Her body hummed with desire, an electric current that pulsed at her neck, her femoral artery. She knew that her sex, though closed, throbbed with need on the inside.

They’d fought. Usually when she got hot like that he’d take her and fuck the fight out of her, orgasm for orgasm. But today they couldn’t seem to thaw the ice between them, despite the heat.

If he knew her sex burned for him, his fingers, his mouth, his thick dick, he didn’t show it, and she didn’t share it, mad as she was. She didn’t even touch herself. Except for the involuntary clenching of her internal muscles massaging herself from the inside, she barely moved. Her panties were wet tho. There was that.

He watched her from outside the house which everyone agreed had too many windows. Her long hair clung to her back. Her nipples peaked under the silk of her dress, whose oversized armholes revealed the swell of her breasts and the stripe of her ribs.

In a little while he’d go to her, take her by the back of the neck, force her down, push himself inside her mouth, inside her cunt until they both came. In a little while he’d take what was his, holding her on top of him so he could suck her sweet titties into his mouth while he fucked her, spanking her so he could feel her pussy spasm from the inside, how she clamped down hard when she came, milking him.

But for now he watched her, seething mad and burning hot, nipples dampening the front of her dress, wanting, waiting, for what only he could give.