Countryside idyll

Sunlight pours over the grass. She lies back, bare to the waist, letting the breeze touch her nipples until they stiffen. Her fingers slide lower, part her thighs, and find the slick heat between them. A slow breath escapes as she traces the same slow circles that make her hips roll against the earth. Blonde hair spills across the wildflowers. She presses two fingers inside, pulls them out, shiny and wet, then returns to her swollen clit. Each stroke pulls a quiet moan from her chest. She lifts her heels, spreads wider, chases the building heat until the whole meadow seems to pulse with it. Her back arches. Her hand works faster. Then everything tightens, breaks, and spills through her in warm, rolling waves.