Our beloved

Meet Sophie Moone, the girl you keep coming back to. You know that sly half-smile, the tight body that still feels new. She sits on the edge of the bed, knees apart, fingers already between her legs, stroking slow like she’s got all afternoon. She watches herself in the mirror across the room, bites her lip when she finds the right spot, and keeps going until her thighs start to shake. Blond hair falls over her face, breath coming short. She spreads wider, gives the mirror a better view, and rubs harder. The room is quiet except for the sound of her fingers and the little gasps she can’t hold back. She leans back on one arm, hips lifting, chasing it. Eyes half-closed now, mouth open, she lets the feeling build until her stomach tightens and her toes curl against the sheets. When she comes it’s quick and sharp, a soft cry she swallows halfway through, then a long, lazy stroke as the tension melts out of her.