Easter surprise

Zafira meets you at the door in a lace bra and matching thong, pale silk stretched tight over tanned skin. She presses a finger to her lips and smiles, slow and deliberate. Her free hand slips behind her back, unclasps the bra, and lets it fall. Small, perfect breasts catch the light. She keeps the thong for now, teasing the thin strip between her thighs with two fingertips, pressing just hard enough to feel herself through the fabric. She walks backward into the room, hips swaying, and sinks onto the edge of the bed. One knee bends, the other slides wider, opening her. The thong is already darker at the center. Zafira hooks the crotch aside, exposing smooth, glistening folds, and draws a slow circle around her clit with the tip of a manicured nail. Her breath catches. She dips two fingers lower, parts herself, and slides them inside, pumping slowly at first, then quicker, wrist angled so you see everything—knuckles glistening, lips clinging each time she pulls out. She adds a third finger, stretching herself open, and her other hand moves to her breast, pinching a nipple until it flushes darker. Her hips rock to meet each thrust, thighs trembling, soft sounds escaping her parted lips. The thong is shoved aside completely now, twisted at her hip, and she fucks herself harder, palm slapping wet against her mound. A flush climbs her chest. Her head tips back, blonde hair spilling across the pillow, and the orgasm hits—sharp, sudden—curling her toes and locking her wrist deep as her cunt pulses around her fingers.