Playful Dance

Cassey likes her own company. Always has. Books keep her company when people can't, and the right words get her blood moving faster than any touch. She puts on music, closes her eyes, and pictures the dirtiest scenes from whatever she’s reading. Then she starts to dance—hips rolling, hair swinging—until she’s peeling that thin dress down over her bare chest. The afternoon light hits her pink thong and the fabric drops to the floor. Naked now, she crawls onto the bed and grinds against the crisp white sheets, running her fingers through her hair before flipping onto her back to show off her smooth, wet pussy. One hand drifts down, parts her lips, and she rubs slow circles that get faster, louder. Two fingers slide in, then three, knuckles-deep, while she rocks on her side so she can reach herself from behind. Her breath turns ragged. Her moans get greedy. Tension coils tight through her belly until it snaps—back arching, thighs shaking, a long, raw cry spilling out as she comes hard, then melts into the mattress, flushed and glowing.