Nothing but pleasure

Dido has the room to herself. No hurry. She runs her fingertips along the soft swell of her breast, traces each nipple until both stand tight. A slow breath, then she slides her hand lower, parts her thighs, and strokes the delicate folds of her pink cunt with the same patience she gives her nipples. Every touch pulls a quiet sound from her throat. She lingers where it feels best, rolling the swollen bud under light circles, then pressing deeper until her hips lift to meet her own hand. The rhythm builds—steady, greedy—until her breath catches and her whole body tightens around the rush of pleasure she has coaxed from herself. She keeps going, riding every shiver, every wet sound, until the edge finally breaks and leaves her flushed and breathless.