Skipping School

Ashlynn Taylor rolls around naked on white sheets, an image of sweet innocence made of bare flesh and morning light. Skipping class feels good. She dresses anyway, then stands before the mirror and catches the right view. Nothing else happens that day. Clothes drop. She stands in front of the glass, pinching each dark brown nipple until they tighten to peaks, sliding two fingers through the bare lips between her thighs while she watches the reflection sway. A low hum rises in her throat. The toy comes from the bottom of her bag. She climbs back onto the mattress, tongue wetting the curved shaft until it glistens. Then it disappears inside her, inch by inch, and her thighs fall open. The vibrator brushes the soft ridge of her G-spot; she bites her lip. Pleasure builds fast. “Fuck, I didn’t realize I was this wet.” Her voice is half sigh, half laugh. The pace shifts. She pulls the toy free, plants the buzzing tip hard against her clit, and grinds. Her hips jerk once, twice. Then she cums, a sudden rush soaking the white linen beneath her as her cunt pulses around nothing but air. Sweet and violent. She stays exactly where she is.