Getting Ready

Natalie stands before the mirror finishing her makeup when the text arrives. Her best friend warns her—finger that cute pussy now or the boy will have her begging later. She returns to the bedroom, slips the dress off again, and lets it fall. Bare breasts. Lacy black panties. She cups her curves for a moment, then peels the panties down and drops to her knees at the edge of the bed. Two fingers slide straight in. No warm-up. She fucks herself hard and steady, wrist moving quick between her thighs. A soft sound rises in her throat. She keeps the rhythm tight, knuckles brushing her clit every stroke, until her hips start rocking without permission. She falls onto the pillows, legs open. One hand cups her breast while the other stays buried, palm grinding, fingers curling each time they bottom out. She lifts and drops against her hand faster, gasping, then moaning, then crying out with each rough thrust. Close. The need sharpens. She digs her heels in, hips jerking upward, breath stuttering—then it hits. Her whole body locks, every muscle tight, and breaks open again with a long, helpless wail. The room falls quiet. The tension is gone. She smiles, slow and satisfied, then scrambles back into the dress. The sheets are damp beneath her. She wants him to come early.