My present

Clara G. lounges on red velvet sheets, her present to herself. Blonde hair cascades over bare shoulders. She peels the straps of her lingerie down inch by inch, letting the fabric fall away from full, soft breasts. Her nipples tighten in the cool air. One hand glides between her thighs, fingers tracing the edge of her panties before slipping inside. She spreads her legs wider, heels digging into the bed. Her body arches. Smooth, long legs flex as she works her clit in slow circles. Every stroke sends a tremor through her tight frame. She pushes two fingers deep, breath hitching, pace quickening. Her free hand cups a breast, pinching the stiff peak. She gasps, hips lifting, chasing the building heat. The red lingerie lies crumpled at her waist. She doesn’t stop. She fucks herself harder, chasing the edge, letting the pleasure crest and break over her in wet, trembling waves.