Jailbird

Phoenix Marie never sits still for long. Even a jail cell can’t cage that kind of fire. She peels the orange jumpsuit from her shoulders, lets it fall, and the cold concrete behind her seems to warm just from the sight of her bare skin. Her big breasts catch the flat light, nipples already tight. She slides a hand between her thighs, finds the wet heat there, and starts to work herself with slow, steady circles. Each stroke grows firmer, quicker. Her breath turns ragged, the cell echoing with the soft, slick sound of her fingers. She bites her lip, leans back against the bars, and chases the rush until her body tightens and the orgasm rolls through her, hard and hot.