Best asset

She stands in front of the mirror, back arched, and looks over her shoulder at the curve of her own ass. Smooth, tight, the kind that begs to be squeezed. She runs both palms over it, digs in her fingers just to feel the give and the spring back. “My best asset,” she whispers. A thin strand of saliva slips from her lower lip when she thinks about someone biting into it like a ripe peach. She turns, spreads her legs a little, and starts to touch herself through the sheer lace of her panties. The fabric’s already damp. She pushes it aside, slips two fingers inside, works them slow and deep while her other hand keeps kneading the firm cheek she’s so proud of. Her breath gets short. She adds a third finger, rocking her hips in a steady rhythm that makes the flesh of her ass ripple with every thrust. The double penetration makes her moan louder—she wants both holes filled, wants the stretch, wants the pressure hitting every sensitive spot at once. She doesn’t stop until her thighs shake and her knuckles are wet.