Spring Awakening

Elizabeth feels spring stirring in her own blood. The first real sun touches bare skin, and she sheds the winter layers without hesitation, trading heavy cloth for something light that barely counts as clothing. She pauses in the sunlight, letting the warmth sink in, then slips her hand beneath the thin fabric. Her fingers trace slow circles over her clit before sliding lower, parting her folds with easy confidence. She leans back, knees open, and strokes herself in steady, measured strokes—first gentle, then firmer, chasing each sharp spark of pleasure. Wetness gathers quickly. She dips two fingers inside, draws them out glistening, then brings them to her mouth and tastes. The rhythm builds again. Her free hand cups a breast, thumb brushing the hardening nipple through lace. She pinches, rolls, sighs. Pressure coils tight in her belly. Legs tense, toes curl against the sheets, and she works herself faster until the tension snaps—hips jerk, breath catches, and the orgasm rolls through her in hot, pulsing waves. She stays sprawled in the light, fingers still resting between her thighs, catching every last tremor.