Country chick

She stands in the doorway with that country glow on her skin, wearing nothing but her boots and that tight denim that hugs every curve. The jeans come off slow, sliding down thick thighs and a full, round ass that begs to be grabbed. She drops the fabric to the floor and steps out, bare now, her pale cheeks glowing in the warm light. She knows what she wants. She climbs onto the bed, knees wide, and sinks forward, ass high and proud. Her hand slips between her legs, fingers brushing soft folds already slick with heat. She rubs slow at first, teasing, then harder, chasing the pulse building deep inside. Every breath turns into a soft moan as she finds her rhythm. Her back arches, her free hand grips the sheets, and she rides her own touch like it's the stallion she's been craving. Fingers dip in, pull back, press again, wet and steady, until the heat coils tight and breaks. She shudders, thighs trembling, the boots still on her feet, the denim crumpled at the edge of the bed.