Private things - part I.

Sometimes a woman needs space. Marina had it all planned. A quiet afternoon alone on the sofa, fingers already working under the thin cotton of her panties. Then James walked in. He didn't say a word. Just watched. Marina kept going, blonde hair spread across the cushion, legs parted, hips lifting to meet her own hand. Her breath caught when his eyes met hers, but she didn't stop. Instead she pulled the fabric aside so he could see exactly what she was doing. The wet sound of her fingers sliding in and out filled the room. James moved closer. Marina smiled, slow and unashamed, and reached for him with the same hand that had just been between her thighs.