Moaning Mona Lee

Water streams down her curves as Mona Lee steps under the spray. Her hands glide over wet skin, slow at first, then tighter, hungrier. She spreads her thighs, fingers slipping between them, working her clit in steady circles. The bathroom fills with her low moans, each one louder than the last. She dips two fingers inside, thrusting deep, hips rolling against her palm. Pressure builds fast. Her breathing turns sharp. Then the release hits—her body jerks, a hot rush of liquid splashes across the tile, and she cries out, raw and loud, riding the final waves until they fade.