Kitty in red

Kittie steps into the frame in red lace that barely counts as lingerie. The fabric sits tight against her skin, the bra lifting her tits just enough to make them move when she breathes. She turns once, letting the thong string disappear between her cheeks, then settles back on the couch with her legs open. Her fingers slide under the thin triangle and pull it aside. She’s already slick, lips pink and bare. Two fingers part her folds, the third finding her clit in slow circles. Her breathing gets heavier. She works the middle finger inside, then adds the second, pumping with a steady rhythm that makes her hips twitch. The red bra strap slips off one shoulder. She doesn’t fix it. Instead she leans her head back, eyes half-lidded, and rubs faster, chasing the heat that’s building low in her belly. The wet sound of her fingers grows louder each time she pushes deeper. Her thighs tense. She presses the heel of her palm hard against her mound and comes with a short, sharp gasp, pussy clenching around nothing, body arching against the couch.