alone at home

Nobody wants company once they catch Tegan alone. Those breasts rise, soft and full, nipples tight and rosy from her own touch. Between parted thighs her cunt gleams, swollen and slick, every slow stroke drawing another breathy sound from her throat. She works two fingers inside, pulls them out shining, then circles the swollen hood until a tremor runs down her legs. The pace changes without warning; sometimes gentle, sometimes demanding. She arches, hips lifting clean off the sheets, chasing the next wave. Sweat beads at her collarbone. She’s the kind of beautiful that stops you cold and makes you keep watching anyway. She finishes with a broken sigh that turns into a long, lazy groan, fingers still buried, body quivering in the after-shock. Nobody needs an invitation to enjoy it. She didn’t.