Alone With My Yo-Yo

Some afternoons, time moves slow. Silvia finishes watering the plants, spins her yo-yo, then lies back on the couch with nothing but her own touch to occupy her. She glides her hands over her perky tits, nipples tightening with every lazy pass. The sweatshirt comes off. Underneath, her pussy hides behind pale-pink lace that looks sweet against her purple knee-high socks. She strips the panties down and settles on her knees, cheek to the cushion, ass high. The position feels dirty in the best way, the same way her boyfriend uses it when he buries his tongue somewhere even tighter. Fingers circle her clit, then slip inside. Two knuckles deep, she strokes her front wall while her palm grinds against the swollen nub above it. Her hips rock hard. One hand stays on her breast, squeezing the soft flesh, pinching the stiff nipple. Heat rushes through her. Her breath breaks into gasps that turn into open, helpless moans. The pace quickens until her body locks, shudders, and lets go in long, pulsing waves. When the tremors fade, she curls onto her side, eyes already drifting shut.