In the garden with Dylan Ryder

Dylan Ryder stands at the garden shower, sunlight on her bare breasts. She’s been wet all day and now the water touches her where her hand soon will. Her nipples harden at the first spray. Fingers slide between her thighs, slow at first, then urgent. She glances over the fence once, twice, then lets her palm press harder. The water hits her clit just right and a soft moan escapes. She leans back against the tile, legs parted, rubbing in steady circles. Her breathing grows ragged. Every stroke pulls her closer. No one to see, nothing to stop her. She works herself faster, chasing the pulse that climbs and climbs until she shudders hard, biting her lip to keep the cry in. Heat fades only when the last tremor does. She catches her breath, water still running over flushed skin, satisfied for now.