Like an Angel

She moves like something holy. Fair skin. Golden hair. The kind of grace that makes you stop and stare. Dido Angel. She steps into frame already half-undressed, letting the robe fall from her shoulders. Her body is smooth and small, almost delicate, but there’s nothing shy about what she’s showing. She slides her hands over her breasts, slow and deliberate, then lower, fingers brushing between her legs. A soft sigh escapes as she parts her thighs. She plays with herself openly, taking her time, stroking, circling, pressing deeper. Each movement is unhurried, each gasp real. She leans back, eyes half-closed, hips tilting to meet her own touch. It’s just her and the camera now, and she makes sure you see everything.