The glass wall

Imagine yourself on the other side of the glass wall. You'd see my outline. You'd hear my moans get louder as I spread my wet pussy open. My fingers slide over the soft folds, teasing my clit. The sheer black lingerie clings to my curves, barely covering the round swell of my ass. I press two fingers inside myself, slow at first, then faster. My knees tremble. Each stroke pulls a breathy whimper from my lips. I arch against the cool glass, my breasts grazing it, nipples tight. My big ass sways with each push of my hand. The reflection of my body glows in the light, every movement visible—every flick of my wrist, every clench of my thighs. I grind down on my own fingers, desperate, open, dripping.