Dirrty

She's not the quiet girl in pigtails anymore. That old life is gone. The frilly shirts and baggy shorts are in the bin. What she puts on now hugs every curve: tiny lace panties, a sheer top that barely covers her nipples, stockings that bite at the thighs. She runs her fingers through loose blonde strands and lets them fall wild. The mirror shows her what she already knows—she looks fuckable. She sprawls on the bed, one hand sliding between her legs. Fingers move slow at first, then faster, slick sounds rising. Her breathing gets heavier. She pushes the panties aside, exposing her pussy, and rubs in tight circles until her hips lift. Moisture gathers, then trickles down over her ass and onto the sheets. A hot spurt follows, soaking her fingers. She smiles through the mess, pressing harder, letting the piss flow while she strokes her clit. The warmth spreads, makes her wetter. She bucks once, twice, chasing the edge until her thighs tremble and she comes in short, sharp gasps.