Dress Up Dressed Down

Tia Cyrus moves naked through the muted white light, one outfit after another slipping over her skin before falling away again. She settles on the lilac lace, thin straps crossing her hips, sheer enough to betray the smooth cleft beneath. The fabric warms under her palm. She presses, circles. Fingers slide beneath, seeking bare heat, parting her lips to stroke the swollen nub hidden there. Her body sways, chasing friction, pleasure tightening low in her belly. She drops onto the bed and kicks the panties free. One knee lifts, opening her fully. Two fingers sink inside, meeting wetness, curling, stroking. She sits up to reach deeper, her other hand busy at her clit. Her ass lifts; she reaches back, finding yet another angle, every thrust in time with the roll of her hips. Breath shortens. The pink toy appears from beneath the sheets. She slicks it between her lips, tongue sliding along its length, then brushes its head across each stiff nipple before she stands. Legs apart, she guides the toy to her entrance. It pushes in, smooth and insistent, filling her. She works it with long, steady strokes while her fingers stay busy on her clit. Her hips rock to meet every thrust. When the head strikes her sweet spot, her thighs lock and her belly tightens in short, helpless pulses. The orgasm crashes through her in a hard, clean wave, the sort of release worth every changed outfit.