Sheer pink

Szilvia gives her sheer pink top one lazy tug. The fabric slips, baring the soft weight of her breasts and the tight peaks already waiting. A flush travels down her stomach as she hooks two fingers under the matching panties and eases them aside, letting the light paint the smooth lips beneath. She sinks back, knees spread, and slides two fingers straight into the heat. Her breath hitches. Each slow thrust makes the lace cling tighter, wetter. She pulls the fingers free, traces the slippery seam once, then presses harder, chasing the shiver that tightens her belly and curls her toes. The panties stay on. They darken, cling, and finally soak through while she rides her own hand in steady rhythm. When the rush hits, it spills in warm, glistening arcs—some across her stomach, some over her trembling thighs—leaving the fabric darker and the air heavy with the scent of her release.