Chapter 29: Tan Line
I remained still under the shade of the trees.
Camila hadn't moved from the basin. She was still facing away from me, bent over the water, scrubbing the clothes with that same rough energy I remembered from when we were kids. From where I stood, I could observe more calmly what the first impact hadn't fully let me process.
Her hips were wide and round, much more pronounced than in my memories. Her waist narrowed clearly before opening again into the curve of her ass. Every time she leaned a little further, the fabric of what she was wearing tightened and revealed the full shape of her cheeks. It wasn't just that she had grown: her body had become decidedly voluptuous.
And then I noticed it.
Right in the area that would normally be covered by the bottom of a bikini, the skin was a clearly lighter tone. A precise tan line separated the warm brown of the rest of her body from that lighter strip, almost milk-chocolate in color. The contrast made the curve of her hips look even more pronounced.
I swallowed.
Camila straightened up for a moment, wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, and looked at the pile of dirty clothes she still had left. She clicked her tongue, as if she had just made an annoying but logical decision. Without any ceremony, she crossed her arms, grabbed the edge of the garment she was wearing, and pulled it off in one single motion, letting it fall onto the pile of wet clothes.
She did it with the same naturalness as someone taking off a jacket when they're hot. Without looking around. Without trying to cover herself. Simply because she was in her own backyard and needed to wash that too.
I stopped breathing.
The movement was quick, but enough for me to see the skin of her entire back, the curve of her shoulders, and the way her body moved once it was freer. She bent over the basin again as if nothing had happened and started scrubbing the garment she had just removed with the same force as before.
My reaction was immediate and impossible to control.
I felt the blood rush downward all at once. My cock hardened with brutal speed, pushing against the fabric of my pants until it formed an obvious, heavy tent. The size that had always been a private source of pride and a certain amount of embarrassment now became a problem: the bulge was impossible to hide. I clenched my teeth and tried to adjust it discreetly, but only managed to make the pressure more uncomfortable.
'Fuck…' I thought, feeling the heat rise up my neck. 'I shouldn't be watching this.'
But I didn't look away.
Camila remained focused on her task, completely unaware of my presence. Water splashed, fabric rubbed against the board, and her body moved with that carefree freedom she had always had. The same girl who used to climb trees and push me into the river was now there, half-naked without knowing it, washing her own clothes in the backyard of her house.
The contrast between the nostalgia and what I was feeling in that moment left my head in a mess.
I tried to shift my position without making noise, but when I moved, my foot slipped slightly on a root. The wooden fence creaked with a dry, clear sound.
I froze.
Camila lifted her head immediately. She stopped scrubbing and turned her face toward the side the noise had come from, without quite looking exactly where I was.
"Those damn raccoons again…?" she muttered out loud, with an annoyed tone. "If they get into the trash one more time, I'm killing them."
She stayed listening for a few more seconds, still half-turned. I wasn't breathing. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure she could hear it.
After a moment, she snorted, shook her head, and went back to concentrating on the clothes.
I didn't think twice.
I backed away very carefully, almost crouching, trying not to make any more noise. Every step felt eternal. Only when I managed to round the corner of the house and get out of her line of sight did I allow myself to release the air I had been holding.
I walked quickly toward the dirt path, still with the erection marking my pants in an embarrassing way and my face burning. The image of her back, the tan line, and the moment she took off her clothes had been burned into my mind with an annoying clarity.
'I can't show up like this,' I thought as I walked away. 'Not after spying on her.'
I decided I would come back. Later, or the next day. But this time properly: knocking on the door, like someone who hadn't just been hiding behind the trees watching a woman wash clothes half-naked.
Even so, as I walked back toward the town with my body still agitated, a part of me knew that image wasn't going to leave my head anytime soon.
End of Chapter 29