It was a warm July night. The warm breeze, having blown all day and grown weary from the scorching sun, was now taking a break, taking matters into its own hands, and calmly blowing bits of paper across the asphalt. Sometimes he grew bored with this pastime, and he would rise higher, peering into the apartments of the city’s unsuspecting residents—who were likewise resting from the daytime heat in the embrace of a sweet slumber—and ruffle their hair, trying to wake them from that fitful sleep into which they had somehow managed to drift amid the heat. Having played with them, and still failing to achieve his pointless goal, he would, out of boredom, strive to rise even higher so that, flying through the dusty attics, he could disturb the sleep of the pigeons sleeping there, less often magpies and crows, and very rarely wavy parakeets, living out their first—and at the same time, last—months in the wild.
Having risen above the attics to the rooftops, having played to its heart’s content, and having temporarily lost all its vigor, the warm July wind turned into a light—though no less, and even more—scorching breeze, gliding quite lazily over the rooftops of high-rises. It had already worn itself out quite a bit during the day, and its focus was scattered, its force weak. It was already preparing to fall asleep for the night itself, as the emptiness of the uniformly flat roofs lulled it; it didn’t expect to encounter anything unexpected or new here, and even a sheet of blank paper was a find for it. However, this time a surprise awaited him.
Sitting on the edge of the flat roof of one of the high-rises, casually dangling her legs, was a pretty female hedgehog of about seventeen. Her fur was pink, and her dress was red. Her large green eyes were wide open so as not to miss a single bright spark in the night—and, of course, so that anyone who happened to be there would have the chance to appreciate their beauty.
Amy Rose—that was the hedgehog’s name—was sitting on the edge of the roof not just for the sake of it, as one might think upon seeing her, but with a specific purpose. To be more precise, she was waiting for someone, and that someone just wasn’t showing up. What a bummer.
The hedgehog was half-sitting, half-lying, leaning her bare back against a ventilation pipe that jutted out from the roof at that spot. The metal of which the structure itself was made and the stone into which it was embedded had become so scorching hot during the day that they still hadn’t cooled down, radiating pleasant warmth to Amy’s body and the surrounding air. In fact, going out onto the roof at night like this was one of the only ways to cool off even a little after a crazy day, when the intense heat had turned even the most dreary day off into a nightmare.
Amy was reclining in a pose that was unusually uninhibited for a young woman, subconsciously dictated by her own body: her arms were relaxed and spread out to the sides of her torso, her hips were slightly apart, and her legs, below the knees, hung freely over the edge of the wall as she looked down from a dizzying height. A person assumes such a pose only when they are certain that no one can see them, when they have forgotten all their insecurities and fears, and are simply enjoying their very existence, without asking themselves questions about the meaning of life or getting distracted by trivialities like magazines.
Amy was in roughly that state right now. She felt like a nimble swallow, gliding smoothly through a boundless ocean of air, carried along by warm air currents, with no destination or means, no beginning and no end to this meditative journey. She now consisted of matter only slightly denser than air, and found it perfectly normal that the wind, which had grown bored and was clearly intrigued by her young, warm body—which, in a fit of fantasy, had been left almost unattended by its owner—had taken the liberty of caressing and tickling her in her most intimate places, burrowing into her hair, sweeping across her neck, slipping under her dress to caress her small but beautiful breasts, and then enveloping her little belly with its attention…
“So what,” she thinks, half-absentmindedly—that her legs are shamelessly spread apart, and the wind is tickling her crotch, and any resident of one of those houses over there, if they’re lucky enough to have binoculars, can freely gaze at her thin white panties, which hardly hide anything anyway, and in this heat serve more as a form of self-reassurance—along the lines of “I’m a decent girl; I didn’t leave the house for that today”—than as any kind of real clothing or protection? On the other hand, the wind, unceremoniously slipping its warm breezes into her panties and under her dress, gives her whole body an incomparable sensation of endless flight... And as for the fact that others might see this… The likelihood that someone is watching her right now is negligible, but if they are… well, let them look; she isn’t ashamed of her body—in fact, she rather likes showing off a part of it right now. After all, it’s no more than what one might see on any beach… However, in the state Amy was in right now, it was hard for her to think about probabilities. She was happy—and so very happy—so she didn’t mind sharing a little of that happiness with someone in such an unusual way; besides, she had nothing to lose... In a burst of altruism and love for all living things, the female hedgehog even tried to spread her legs even wider, but the hole in the roof railing suddenly ended, preventing her from doing so, and Amy’s knees pressed against the smooth concrete.
This roused her a little, and she sat up, now fully, blinking absently with her long lashes. Below her lay a small neighborhood, its apartment windows warmly winking at her with the yellow lights of evening TV shows.
“There’s no one there,” Amy thought disappointedly, still not having emerged from her recent state of near-nirvana, and blinking absently, like a baby gazing in wonder at the world around her for the first time, enchanted by its appearance—no one is looking at me right now, there’s no point in hoping to share my beauty with the world in such a primitive way”—she looked down at her dress, even lifting the part above her waist slightly away from her body so that her imaginary viewer could see not only her panties, but also her breasts; sighing, she let it fall, and, pulling her knees up to her chin, continued waiting in the fetal position.
After a while, Amy realized just how much more exposed her body now was to outside eyes.
“Well—I wanted the best, but it turned out the same as always. Oh well, good for you, guy!” she thought, and smiled, gazing defiantly at the distant lights while hiding her nose between her knees.
P.S.
There was going to be a continuation where Shadow teleports in and begins humping Amy real hard, almost raping, but it never got to be written.
