Weekend getaway

Christmas wore me out this year. Between the parties and the endless list of things to do, I felt completely spent. By the end, even the thought of sex left me cold, and that never happens. My friends told me to take a break, to spend a few days at a nice spa where no one would bother me. So I went. Hot baths, long mornings in bed, no noise. My body started to loosen up, and soon my mind followed. The first few days passed without a single dirty thought. Then one afternoon, lying naked on crisp white sheets, I felt it return—slow at first, then heavier, that warm ache between my legs that told me I needed to touch myself. I let my fingers drift down, tracing the soft skin of my stomach until they reached the slick heat I had been ignoring. My breath caught. I spread my legs a little wider, and when I found my clit it was already swollen, begging. I rubbed slow circles at first, savoring the feeling, then pressed harder as the tension built. My blonde hair clung to my damp neck. I could feel my pulse in my fingertips, in my cunt, everywhere. The orgasm came in waves, sharp and sweet, leaving me gasping and smiling at the ceiling. By the time it was over I knew the weekend had done exactly what it was supposed to do.