Shadow On The Wall

Henessy slips her top down. Her nipples stiffen at the first pass of her fingertips. She watches them tighten, then flicks them again, sharper this time. Panties drop to her ankles. Her bare cunt is smooth, still faintly pink from the razor. She sinks onto the toilet lid and rubs two fingers along the seam of her lips until the heat inside her builds. She turns, kneels on the cold tile, and pushes those fingers deep from behind. The angle makes her gasp. One hand stays busy between her legs while the other claws across her ass, up her side, and finds a nipple again. She pinches it hard, twists, and starts thrusting faster. Her breath grows ragged. She is already soaked; the sound is obscene in the quiet bathroom. Her hips rock back against her hand, greedy for more. She bites her lip, but a whimper still escapes. Another hard thrust, then two more, and her thighs shake. She comes with a broken moan, fingers buried, hips jerking, nipples aching under her own grip. She slumps forward, catching her breath on the seat, and lets the thought of your hands replace her own.