Black lingerie

I own a lingerie shop. That gives me an excuse to wear the latest pieces before anyone else. This spring the trend is lace trimmed in black, the set I have on right now. The bra cups are sheer, nipples pressed dark against the mesh. The briefs sit low, a tiny bow dead center on the front. I turn slow so you can see how the thong disappears between my cheeks. My fingers trace the scalloped edge at my hip, slide lower, press the thin fabric right where it covers my clit. A quiet breath leaves me when the pressure hits. I stay on my feet, thighs parted, rubbing small circles until the lace grows damp. The mirror across the room shows every move. I watch myself the same way you would, slow and greedy, until the need gets heavier. My knees find the bed. On my back, legs open, the black lace pulled aside just enough. Fingers glide through the wet. Two slide inside, the third works my clit in tight strokes. The bra stays on, straps slipping off my shoulders as my hand moves faster. Every wet sound fills the quiet room. When I come, my hips lift, the black fabric stretched tight across my knuckles while the pleasure rolls through me in long, trembling waves.