Presents for Sophie - 12.

She records herself stripping the foil from an oblong black box, fingers slow, deliberately teasing the cardboard open. Inside waits a heavy silicone toy, the shaft thick and curved, already slick with lube. She rolls onto her back and spreads wide, guiding the rounded head between her lips with wet, careful circles. The stretch pulls a soft gasp from her throat, then another as she pushes it deeper, again and again, hips lifting to meet each thrust. The room fills with the rhythmic, obscene sound of suction and the sharp slap of skin on skin. Her wrist trembles; her knees draw higher, closer together, pressing around the toy while she grinds against its base. Moans start soft, deepen, climb in pitch. Her other hand presses flat over her clit, rubbing tight circles, breath stuttering, voice breaking on shorter and shorter curses until she goes silent—muscles locked, back arched—before coming hard, thighs shaking, slick dripping down the curve of her ass onto the sheets.