Little dolphin

My slim frame rides the soft waves, cool water brushing my nipples, making them stand tight, the chill of the sea meeting the heat building inside me. The girl floats, legs parting, letting the water glide along her inner thighs. Her hand drifts down, fingers tracing the slick skin between them, parting folds, testing her own warmth beneath the surface. Blonde strands drift in the water as she draws her knees higher, sinking her fingers deeper, slow, deliberate. She presses two fingertips against the rising clit, circling, hips lifting just enough to catch the next swell. Her breath comes in short, low sounds, matching the steady rhythm of her hand. The brunette strand of hair sticks to her cheek as she arches again, thigh muscles twitching each time her fingers slip in, then out. Her free hand cups a breast, squeezing the hard nipple, rolling it between finger and thumb. A flush moves down her chest. She angles her hips higher, chasing friction against the moving water. Her fingers quicken, wet skin meeting wet fingers, sound swallowed by the sea. She gasps, body clenching, then easing, riding the small release as the last wave pushes her toward the sand.