Little lady

She’s the blonde everyone labels the kinky teengirl, but tonight she’s out to prove she can be something else. The lingerie she chose is silky, expensive, a deep midnight blue that skims her hips and hugs small, high breasts. She lets the straps slip down her arms one at a time, watching the fabric fall away in the mirror, then runs her palm over the faint sheen of sweat between her thighs. Her brunette friend is already on the bed, knees drawn up, fingers resting over a trimmed strip of dark hair, only observing, waiting. The blonde slips two fingers into her own mouth, wets them, slides them between her legs. She parts herself slowly, spreads the soft lips until everything glistens, then reaches for the small chrome speculum on the nightstand. She opens herself with it, metal catching the low light, and the pressure makes her exhale through parted lips. A warm trickle follows, splashes against the towel, and her eyes half-close in pleasure at the sound. The brunette doesn’t move; she only watches, breathing heavier, fingers tightening around the lace between her own legs. The blonde smiles, slow, proud, still wearing nothing but the open lingerie and a drop of moisture sliding down her inner thigh.