Artful Solo

Apolonia worships art. Especially black-and-white photography, where edges are razor sharp and shadows press hard. That sharp contrast turns her on every time. Pleasure is art too, and she spends plenty of solitary hours refining it. Her cunt is a small masterpiece—neat, slick, eager to be studied—and she never minds the study. The grainy prints on the staircase wall take her there tonight. Every time her foot touches the next step her pussy pulses and wets. She trails her fingers along her folds, lingering, painting invisible frames in the wet. A photographer of the old school is watching in her head, clicking, breathing heavy on the lens as she sinks two fingers deep, curls them, draws them out glistening. She moves upward, the stone walls cool on her bare skin, but her cunt stays hot. Each step brings her closer to that angle that angles her middle finger exactly against her clit, light-speed clicks blending with the wet sound she makes. Alone, she comes at will, thighs trembling above the last tread, staining the print behind her with faint, shiny streaks.