This is the first story I've published on Literotica. I'd written it well over a decade ago and shared it with my best friend--she also happened to be the woman I was in love with. She liked the original, but I knew it needed work, so I squirreled it away and forgot about it.The original was much shorter and not near as fleshed out, if you'll pardon the pun--but the foundation, albeit edited, is largely intact here.
I lost that woman back in 2020--she passed away. This story drifted to mind a few years later (now 2025). I was astonished to find it on an old thumb drive. Something told me to dust it off, to finish what I'd started all those years ago... maybe it was her.
My singular hope for this story is that someone enjoys it; I have no preconceptions about it pleasing everyone. Working on this has taught me that writing erotica isn't near as simple or easy as one might think--but it can be enjoyable. It can offer a way to touch, even taste, the ethereal.
If you read to the end, please take that quick moment to rate it. And I will try to respond to any comments written. -- JP
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It hung like old, damp velvet in the bedroom air, even with the windows open.
The humidity rolled off the lake like an old baker slowly rolling out dough. Josh rolled on his side for the tenth time in an hour trying to alleviate the gumminess clinging to his body. Pam dreamt lazily next to him, the rumpled, white sheets gathered just below her knees covering her slender calves and ankles. High above the forest canopy hung a full moon, its pallid light streaming through the thin curtains that barely stirred in the sluggish night air.
He always insisted she sleep on the side nearest the window. He'd spent countless hours during their getaways in quiet admiration of her body. A thousand times he'd seen her hair generously spread across her shoulder and spill upon the pillow. A thousand times he stared, waiting for the next one thousand opportunities. Her skin thrilled him--smooth, creamy, almost innocent; her lithe legs flowed up toward her back, all perfectly unified like a fine string of pearls. Even after fifteen years with her he still couldn't get his fill of her--he'd even bring home the occasional pair of panties for her, just so he could lose himself tracing his fingertips along the fabric hem, across each smooth outer thigh, drifting slowly along each cheek, and tenderly drawing tiny circles as he arrived at the opposite inner thigh.
She still fascinated. Still captivated and beguiled.
But lately, clouds swirled behind her soft brown eyes. It didn't feel dangerous or foreboding, just... grey, subdued and still, like a hot day with no breeze for relief. She seemed distracted, even sporadically detached. She'd provided no reason to suspect the slightest infidelity; quite the opposite. More often than not, they were within arms reach of one another--their bond felt as strong as ever. He figured she just needed time to process whatever it was.
Yet her moments of quiet dissonance became increasingly tangible.
"Everything alright," he'd ask. Her response was predictable. "Everything's fine" she'd reply. Every time. Her somber eyes belied her words. He could sense it in her embrace, her touch, her occasional unaffected kiss.
She'd clutch him just a little longer than usual each time they hugged, her voice a little quieter. She slept more restlessly, reaching for him multiple times every night. Try as he might, Josh couldn't coax a sliver of detail from her.
They loved the cabin, so he thought it worth a weekend to see if it still retained its bark-encrusted magic. Inwardly he hoped the silhouetted pines would whisper her cares to him as she slept.
After the three-plus hour drive to get there, both felt the effects of a long Friday. Within seconds of exiting the car, both commented on the humidity, especially around the lake. Gravel crunched underfoot as they unloaded the car, a welcome shift from the harsher concrete and asphalt back home. So, too, was the cleaner, pine-tinged air. Under two hours later they'd opened all the windows, turned out the lights, and crawled into the king size bed.
The sheet stuck to his skin, refusing to release its textile grasp on his clammy flesh. Quietly peeling it away, he slowly rolled out of bed, careful not to wake her. He had no problem with her skin being sticky; his was another matter. Careful steps carried him down the hall to a large walk-in closet. The light stung his eyes when it came on, making him wince as if slapped in the face. He was suddenly aware that his cotton boxers clung more than loosely draped against his backside and hips.
"Where the hell is that fan?" he whispered, tugging at the fabric.
Boxes, milk crates, jackets, and storage containers of various sizes lined the walls and shelves; black shoe boxes, glossy hat boxes, red, green, yellow, blue, grey, even newspaper wrapped packages lay everywhere. Most of the contents belonged to various family members who shared the cabin throughout out the year. The only true certainty was its disorganization--no labels, no sections, no manner of telling what belonged to whom. A bead of sweat rolled between his shoulders.
"You gotta be kidding me," he groaned, eyes roving over the mess. "Look for a cord," he whispered to himself.
He started searching amid the stacks on his left, focused intently on his self-assigned task. He wedged fingers between boxes, lifted or pulled crates, and used an umbrella to probe around areas he couldn't quite reach. He had just about finished the left side of the closet when a gentle touch on the small of his back made him whip around. The umbrella he'd been using stopped with a hard thud, followed by a high pitched "OW!"
"Geez sweetie, you scared me! I'm so sorry!" Pam stood before him rubbing her right arm just above the elbow. Her sleepy eyes regarded the rosy stripe the umbrella left. She gently rubbed her left palm over the mark.
"I rolled over and you weren't there, so, you know, I came looking for you. What could you possibly need to look for in here at this hour?"
The harsh artificial light in the closet held none of moonlight's magic, but she evoked the same simmering arousal he'd always experienced when confronted with her beauty. The light fabric of her lace top hugged everywhere his imagination darted; the matching panties were as sensible as they were alluring. His fingertips found her dark hair and stroked it softly as he gently kissed her forehead.
"Sorry about hitting you."
She managed a half grin. "It's alright. Nothing broken, just stings a little" she cooed, giving a playful pout. Josh reached behind her and leaned the umbrella against the outer wall, out of further harm's way. "I'm looking for a fan I know I saw in here a while ago."
"Really sticky tonight, isn't it?"
"That's no lie."
"Honey, you should sleep on my side of the bed by the window. You get more of the breeze there" she offered.
