Preparing for a date

I get filthy thoughts when I’m getting ready. One minute I’m picking out lingerie, the next I’m bent over the vanity, picturing his hands grabbing my ass, spreading it, and sliding inside me without asking. My panties cling, soaked through. I peel them off, slip two fingers between my folds, and work my clit in slow circles. My breath fogs the mirror. I fuck myself harder, hips rolling, ass bouncing with every thrust of my wrist. I come hard—quick, messy—and lick the taste off my fingers before I pull the fresh lace back up over my still-pulsing pussy and walk out the door.