The park emptied out faster than usual once the light started fading. We’d taken the long path behind the playground on purpose the one that stayed mostly hidden under the trees and rarely had anyone on it after five. My brother’s friend walked close enough that our arms kept brushing. He was a few years older, the quiet one who’d been around the house forever, and every time our eyes met I felt the same low heat that had been building all afternoon. We slowed near the bench half-tucked into the bushes. No one else was in sight. He stopped first and turned toward me, one hand sliding to my waist. “Been thinking about getting you alone since we left,” he said, voice low. I didn’t step back. He kissed me once, short and firm, then his hand moved under the hem of my dress. Fingers traced the inside of my thigh, slow at first, until they reached the edge of my underwear. He hooked them to the side and pressed two fingers against me. I was already wet. The first push inside made my breath catch hard. He curled them just right, stroking that spot while his thumb found my clit and started circling in light, steady passes. “Fuck,” he muttered against my neck. “You’re soaked.” I grabbed his shoulder to stay steady. He worked his fingers deeper, pulling them almost all the way out before sliding back in. The wet sound of it was soft under the trees. My hips started moving with him without me really deciding to. He added a third finger and the stretch pulled a quiet gasp out of me. He kept the same rhythm deep, deliberate strokes, thumb never leaving my clit while his other hand stayed at my hip, holding me in place against him. Every time he pushed in I felt the pressure build higher. My legs were starting to shake. He leaned in closer, mouth near my ear, telling me how tight I felt around his fingers and how long he’d wanted to do this. I bit down on my lip so I wouldn’t make too much noise. The park stayed empty. Somewhere farther off a car door shut, but no one came near the path. He fucked me harder with his hand, fingers curling on every stroke, thumb pressing firmer against my clit. The heat coiled tight and then broke. I came with a sharp inhale, clenching hard around his fingers, thighs trembling while he kept moving through it. He didn’t pull out right away. He slowed the pace instead, drawing the last of it out until I was leaning most of my weight against him, breathing uneven. When he finally eased his fingers free he wiped them on the inside of my thigh and fixed my underwear and dress like nothing had happened. My legs still felt unsteady. “We should head back,” he said, voice rough. “Your brother’ll start wondering.” I nodded. We started walking toward the main path again, close enough that our arms brushed. My underwear was damp and every step reminded me of how his fingers had felt. Neither of us said much on the way out, but the quiet between us felt heavier than before.