Little black dress - part I.

She stands in the soft lamplight wearing nothing but that little black dress. Silk hugs every curve, the hem riding high on bare thighs. Her fingers trace the neckline, then slip inside, cupping her own breast through the fabric. The dress comes up first—slow, deliberate—until the lace edges of her lingerie peek out. She watches herself in the mirror, breath quickening as one hand slides lower, pressing between her legs. The dress falls to the floor. She keeps the lingerie on. Fingers hook the thin fabric aside, and she touches herself with unhurried intent, knees parting, hips tilting forward. Each stroke deepens, her middle finger slipping in, the heel of her hand grinding against her clit. She moans once, quiet and throaty, before biting her lip. Blonde hair spills across her shoulders as she leans back, legs spread wider, the wet sound of her fingers filling the room. She doesn't rush. Every movement is measured, sensual, a private show just for her.