Fiery red

She does not blush when she feels your stare on her bare skin. Instead she leans into it. Her hips roll in slow circles that make her ass sway just right. Each lazy twist draws your eyes along the curve of her cheeks, then between them, and she knows exactly what that view does to you. She turns, still dancing, and the bedroom lights catch the red hair framing her face before they slide down to her body. Her lingerie is the kind that barely counts: sheer straps, thin triangles, fabric that does nothing to hide how wet she already is. She slips one hand between her thighs, strokes lazily, then parts her legs wider so you can see every slick fold. Two fingers dip inside, come out glistening. She tastes herself, smiles at you, and keeps her ass moving to the silent beat only she hears. When she bends forward the lingerie shifts, lace stretching, but she does not pull it off. Instead she reaches for the small mirror she left on the bed, cool glass in her fingers. She settles back against the pillows, knees up, soles flat. The fabric of her panties is dragged aside with one nail. She tilts the mirror until the light hits just right, then brings the rounded end of the speculum to her entrance. The metal slides in with a quiet, wet sound. She opens it slowly, notch by notch, until her cunt is spread wide and shining, and she holds the pose so you can look straight into her. Her other hand stays busy, rubbing slow circles over her clit while the speculum keeps her on display. She watches your face the whole time, hips still rolling, every movement inviting you deeper into the view she knows you cannot look away from.