Nasty

Fresh off the boat and already dripping. Antonya walks in looking like she just stepped out of a wet dream—petite, pale, and carrying tits that belong on a much older woman. The black hair hangs loose down her back while the rest of her stays completely bare. She spreads out on the couch like she owns it, long legs open, one hand drifting down between them. Fingers trace lazy circles over her clit, then dip inside, coming back slick and shiny. She plays like no one’s watching, hips rolling up to meet her own hand, breath growing heavier. When the need hits she shifts her weight, thighs trembling, and lets a hot stream arc out across the cushions. The puddle grows beneath her, dark and glistening, and she doesn’t stop touching herself the whole time. Every shiver, every soft gasp says she’s done this before—alone, hungry, and glad someone’s finally looking.