Neilla by the pool

Neilla stretches out by the pool, sun catching on her skin like warm oil. She peels the tiny bikini away, piece by piece, until nothing covers her. Her body gleams in the light. She lies back on the lounge, knees bent, legs open. Her fingers trail down the center of her smooth mound and part the soft lips. She watches the way her own touch spreads her open, wet already, glistening under the sun. Two fingers slip inside, slow at first, then deeper, the muscles around them clenching and easing. She keeps her eyes half-lidded, hips rolling in time with the rhythm. Each stroke brings a faint wet sound that mixes with the quiet lap of the water behind her. Her free hand slides up to cup her breast, pinching one nipple hard enough to make her lips part. The need in her grows obvious—the way she bites her lower lip, the quick little lift of her hips every time her thumb brushes her clit. She never takes her gaze off the spot between her thighs, studying every detail of how she fucks herself in the bright light. She wants more, but for now she keeps working her fingers, stretching, pressing, chasing that sharp edge she can almost taste.