The cool leaves breathe against your skin.

I'm thinking about the man to make love to me. I'm thinking about the type he will have to be. The four hours of throbbing, sweating, gritting sex we will have. I'm thinking about all the men who will look at me, and who will not be able to meet the standard.

I'm thinking about hickeys all over my back. I'm walking the dog, it's late at night. I go out to be alone and be myself, for a little while, without the imposition of other people's opinions.

All these thoughts, and I'm hot. I keep walking, I keep thinking. I think about how to judge this man, the one that will let me light candles and whisper naughty truth's about myself two hours before our clothes ever come off. I think about the sex of human nature, and it has nothing to do with intercourse.

After a few more blocks, I start to slow. I'm looking at lawns, thinking about the cool, grassy smell of the earth and the fall. It's dark, and no one is out. I think about pulling off my shirt in the middle of some leafy bushes, the leaves crinkly and dry against my skin. The dog keeps going, and so do I, my sense of danger alerted, my senses heightened as I think about the cold air on my exposed breasts. I shiver, my nipples hard, and I know how good my snowy skin would look in this great darkness, the fog settling in and the only real light coming from porch and street lamps, making me look washed out and unreal. I turn a corner, and there it is. A lawn.

I make up my mind, unzipping my jeans and falling onto the grass in the dark. I think about you, hot and lean against my body, your lips on my neck and your hands in my hair. My hand slides down my body, and I wiggle my jeans down around my knees. It's so dark on this lawn, it'd be amazing if anyone could see me. The lights in the house are on, but the blinds are drawn. In my excitment, I let go of the leash and the dog turns back to stare at me curiously. I hop up and waddle over to loop it crazily around a street sign, and then fall back to the lawn, this time my hands going up my shirt, pulling up my bra to expose my breasts to the cool night. I fondle a nipple and my other hand slides down my body, meeting that soft warm place between my legs. I flicker my finger against my clit, and I know I'm done for.

I roll over, my ass in the air, my other hand clutching the grass and getting all muddy along with my jeans, but I don't care. I bite my lip, sliding my fingers against myself, all along my wet slit. I'm so wet I'm pretty sure it's dangerous, and all I can think of is doing this with you, in someone else's lawn, of maybe making love to you at home for hours and hours, of dripping sweat and moaning and clutching.

I think of that primal instinct to mate and let it go, letting the primordial chemicals in my body that know what it means to be a mate and to have a mate and that program me for all the desires and instincts I have to facilitate the life of my genes and, in some small way, the continuation of me. I think about those deep down codes of DNA that make up all of my desires and knowledge, and I slide my fingers in a little deeper, my ass white and bare in the cool dark night, my nipples rubbing against the damp grass.

"Cum. Cum. Cum." I mutter and whisper, and the dog is staring at me, this crazy female human on all fours pounding away at herself. My cunt is so wet, it feels like velvet. I imagine this is the way sex is supposed to be, messy and desperate, but carefully thought out. As I get closer to the brink of orgasm, I think about the hilarity of the situation- my bare ass sticking out towards the street, me knuckle deep in my own crotch and on someone else's front lawn. I imagine the look on the owner of this houses' face, the shock and vague disgust, and then the reaction, "What are you doing?" I imagine trying to explain, standing up, pants around my ankles, my nipples erect in the cold air and me trying to put my clothes back on and explain. And there is just no explanation for this kind of thing.

Just as I orgasm I start to laugh, a deep satisfying laugh, the kind that just sort of escapes when your best friend tells a really good joke, but at the same time I'm kind of moaning, and then tears start streaming from my eyes and I roll over, curled up and half naked on the grass. I look ridiculous but I can't stop laughing, my hand still between my thighs, trapped while I shake and gasp at the hilarity of the socialized world.

Finally, I get up. I'm covered in mud, but I get most of it off on my pants. I pull them up, adjust my breasts in my bra and pull down my shirt. I try to organize my hair, even though it won't matter when the wind kicks up, and I wipe my eyes, the urge to laugh still full and bubbly in my throat. I untie the dog, and we keep walking, heading for home.

When I get there, I tell my parents I lost the leash and as I was running to catch it slipped and fell in the mud. They accept the story, and instead of feeling guilty, I feel this uplifting, this bouncing in my spirit.

I think back to the moment, and how free I was, my bare ass in the air. The wonder of fucking myself under someone else's piece of sky- and they never knew. And I know how free I am, how naked I was in that moment and how totally alone. Right then, I was beautiful and wild, and there isn't a person living who could ruin it.