On the fur rug

The fur rug meets her bare skin like a secret only her body knows. She presses her naked pussy against it, hips rolling slow and greedy. Each glide makes her breath catch. The short, soft hairs tease her clit with every shift of weight. She lets herself sink lower, spreads wider, grinds harder. Heat blooms under her belly. Her breath turns ragged. She keeps going, chasing the tickle that melts straight into need, thighs quivering, until the fur turns slick beneath her.