Mom came through the door talking about the overlook and the light and how Dad had almost dropped the camera. Cole’s hand stayed on my thigh under the throw. His fingers pressed once, slow, right over the soaked crotch of my shorts, and I had to lock my knees to keep from jerking.
“Head better?” Mom asked me.
“Yeah. Just needed to sit.”
Cole’s thumb stroked the seam of my shorts. I could feel how wet the fabric was. Three loads. My cunt was swollen and slippery and every tiny shift made more of it seep out. He knew. He kept petting me like he was soothing a headache while Mom unpacked trail mix and Dad kicked his boots off by the door.
“We’re going to shower,” Dad said. “Then maybe cards later if you two aren’t sick of each other.”
“We’re good,” Cole answered. His fingers slipped unde
