Open windows

The first day of spring. I crack the windows wide and let that sweet chill sweep through. Still cold, but the sun’s warm breath is already there. It gets inside me fast. Blood surges. Nipples press against the black lace cups, the matching thong clinging tight between my cheeks. I lean on the sill, blonde hair spilling forward as my fingers slide down. I’m already wet. One hand teases a breast free, squeezing the soft flesh; the other slips under the thin fabric, spreading slick heat over swollen lips. My hips roll against my own palm while the breeze kisses my skin. Every slow circle around my clit makes my thighs tremble. I bite my lip, breathing in that sunlit air, fingers moving faster now, chasing the sharp edge that’s already building low in my belly.