Feelgood times

She sinks back. No rush, no noise—just her and whatever’s running behind her eyes. Her mind drifts, easy at first, then it starts to show skin. Blonde hair sticks to the pillow in wet lines. She watches the brunette in her thoughts peel her clothes slow. The first finger slips between her legs and she exhales like someone struck a match. She spreads wider, tracing the same path her fantasy girl takes. Every stroke tightens the picture: knees parted, soft sounds catching in her throat, wetness glistening under the light. She bites her lip, adds another finger, hips lifting to meet the rhythm she’s built. The daydream sharpens—she can almost taste the other girl’s mouth, almost feel the heat of her skin. Her own fingers move faster, chasing it. The bed creaks once, twice. Then she shudders hard, mouth open, eyes half-closed, the fantasy burning itself out in one long, wet pulse.