Secret Diary

Lea writes in her diary daily. She turns pages backward sometimes, tracing her own progress through old crushes, old fantasies. Memory alone makes her wet now. The boys she once snuck glances at. The girls she barely knew how to want yet. The pressure of her own fingers when every touch felt new. Her candles burn low, purple glass catching the flame. Their sweet scent slides through the dark, mingling with the salt on her skin. She peels away her shirt, unhooks the bra, then slips off the matching panties with one quick flick of her heel. Fingers move lower. The thin dark hair across her chest brushes her nipples, cool and teasing. She traces her shaved cunt first, then circles the clit with two fingers, coaxing slick warmth from the center outward. Her legs lift. Ankles above her head now. Hand reaches down and under from that new angle, the skin softer, hotter. Pulse quickens, hips rock against her own palm until the rhythm snaps sharp and a quiet, aching moan escapes. When her breathing steadies, she presses her palm flat to the diary page and whispers thanks.