Coffee For One

Eve wakes hungry for coffee. That first sip three weeks ago still lingers between her lips. She wants the heat, the buzz, and she knows exactly where to find it. Her nightgown hits the floor. Breasts curve pale in the morning light. She slips her hand between her thighs, the thin cotton of her panties dragging tight across her smooth cunt. The pressure sends a quick spark straight up her spine. Fabric gone, fingers take over, rubbing the bare, shaved lips. Her left hand cups a breast and kneads the soft flesh. She swings a leg over the couch arm, spreads wider, slides two fingers straight into wet heat. The couch groans beneath her. Her hips rise and drop in hard little thrusts, fucking her own hand. Every pump drags the knuckle of her thumb over her swollen clit. She can feel the walls clench, slick running down her wrist. Near the edge, her breath turns ragged. She sinks lower, spine bowed against the cushions, legs trembling, and rides the wave until pleasure snaps sharp and clean inside her. When it fades, her skin feels extra tender. Coffee done its job; ideas line up fast and clear. Eve smiles, already hearing the melody that might knock the band sideways.