Closer to Caroline

Caroline catches your eye first in simple white panties, the stretch of fabric doing nothing to hide the curves it cups. She stands by the window, letting light spill over her skin, then sits on the edge of the bed and slides her fingers beneath the waistband. The cotton slips down one leg, then the other. Naked now, she lies back, knees parting just enough to show the soft, fair triangle between them. Her breasts rise and fall with each slow breath; she cups one in her palm, thumb tracing the nipple until it tightens. The other hand glides lower, fingertips drawing lazy circles at the peak of her mound before parting the lips and finding the wet heat inside. Her eyes stay half-lidded, lips parted, while she works two fingers in steady strokes, hips lifting to meet her hand. She pauses to lick her fingers clean, tasting herself, then returns to the same rhythm, faster now, thighs trembling. A small gasp escapes her when she comes, the sound barely more than a breath, and she keeps her touch light until the last tremor fades.