A Sip of Brandy

Brandy sits back, already half-drunk on herself. One slow sip of that famous brandy and her skin starts to hum. Those full tits rise with every breath, heavy, pale, begging to be held. Her palm glides over the soft curve of her belly, lower, until fingers meet the damp heat between her thighs. She parts her legs without ceremony and strokes the slick folds, the wet sounds rising each time she circles her swollen clit. Her hips roll, that generous ass rocking against the sheets as she pushes two fingers deeper, curling them just right. She bites her lip, eyes half-closed, chasing the pulse that grows hotter and tighter. Anyone watching would trade places with those fingers in a heartbeat.