Daring Cuckquean Play

I didn’t expect the park to become a place of transformation. But here I am, sitting on the edge of a mossy log, heart still racing from what just unfolded.

It started days ago—after that impulsive moment on the picnic table with Kim. We thought we were alone. Turns out, we weren’t. A note tucked under Kim’s windshield wiper changed everything: “Caught your picnic table show—pretty gutsy. If you’re both up for more fun, call me. –Tina.”

We laughed at first. Nervous energy. Then curiosity took over. We called her. Tina was bold, playful, and surprisingly grounded. A teacher, she said. Hikes the park often. Saw something in us she wanted to explore.

We agreed to meet—same park, same table, but in daylight. No expectations.

This morning, Tina was already there. Leaning against the table like she belonged. Conversation flowed. She had that magnetic ease, like she’d known us for years. Eventually, she suggested a walk. “There’s a clearing I know,” she said. “Quiet. Secluded.”

We followed.

The trail opened into a sun-dappled glade, bordered by trees and a creek. She laid out a blanket. We sat. Talked. Teased. The air was thick with possibility.

And then… it happened. Not rushed. Not wild. Just three people leaning into curiosity, connection, and the thrill of the unknown.

Now, the sun’s climbing higher. Tina’s laughing softly, Kim’s brushing leaves from her hair, and I’m sitting here trying to process it all.

We came to the park for fresh air. We left with something far more electric.