Not yet a woman

She thinks about who she is. Not a girl anymore. Not yet a woman. The thought sits between her legs as she opens them wider on the bed. Fingers trace the line of her hip, then move lower, parting soft folds to find the heat she now understands. She rubs slow circles over her clit, breathing deeper each time her fingers slip and slide. A clear glass speculum waits on the sheets. She picks it up, coats the smooth ends, then presses the cool tip inside. One gentle push spreads her open, metal lips parting her walls. Her other hand stays busy on her swollen clit, rubbing faster as the speculum holds her exposed. Blonde hair fans across the pillow. She watches herself take it, watches the way her cunt glistens and clenches around clear glass. A soft moan escapes when she twists the instrument and her fingers press harder. Pleasure builds fast and tight. Her thighs tremble. The brunette mirror on the wall catches everything: the spread, the stretch, the moment her body gives in and comes in wet, pulsing waves.