Age of Amazons

Anetta stands bare beside the bed, sunlight on her skin. She runs one hand down her stomach, the other between her thighs. Fingers slide, slow at first, then faster. A soft gasp slips out. She leans back, knees parting wider, and watches her own hand move. Blonde hair falls over one shoulder. Her breath quickens. She bites her lip, rubbing harder, hips rolling into each stroke. Every sound she makes lands sharp in the quiet room.