Baseball fan

Sandy loves baseball. She settles back on the couch, already naked, her fair hair loose around her shoulders. In one hand she grips the remote; the other slips straight between her legs. On the screen a batter swings, the crack loud in the quiet room. Sandy moans at the same moment. Her free hand slides over the heavy curve of her ass, fingers digging in, then returns to her clit with deliberate, unhurried strokes. She parts her thighs wider, heels pressed into the cushions, every motion open and unashamed. The commentator drones on, but Sandy’s breathing has its own rhythm now—sharp, wet, insistent. She arches, breasts lifting, hips rolling against her own hand, the tight pink of her pussy glistening each time she spreads herself. A home run plays. Sandy comes with it, mouth open, back bowed, the remote clattering to the floor as her body shudders through every pulse.