Buxom babe

Pamela Blue wants no part of the fake stuff. She lets her natural breasts sit soft and heavy, the kind you can watch move when she breathes. Her body curves where it should. Every inch of her feels real under her hands. She stands in front of the mirror in a black lace bra, fingers trailing the fabric like she has all the time in the world. The clasp gives with a quiet snap. She cups herself, thumbs circling the nipples until they tighten. Heat builds low and slow. The panties come next. She hooks her thumbs at the hips, peels them down, and the scent of her excitement hangs in the air. She climbs onto the bed, spreads her legs, and starts touching. No rush. She finds the rhythm she likes and stays with it. Two fingers dip inside, then come out slick. She drags the wetness over her clit and keeps going. Her breathing gets heavier. The bed creaks a little under her weight. She works herself until the tension breaks, hips lifting, mouth open in a silent cry. When it’s over she lies still, hand resting between her thighs, chest rising and falling.