Knockout

Bambi walks back in with fresh blonde hair. She still wears the tiny black shorts that sit low on her hips. The matching sports bra clings tight, the thin fabric straining against her chest. She grins at the camera, slides both hands over her waist, then hooks her thumbs under the hem of the shorts. In one slow pull the nylon drops to her ankles. She steps out, naked now except for the thin white socks. Her fingers go straight between her legs. She parts her lips with two fingertips, finds the wetness already there, and begins to rub in tight, steady circles. Her breathing deepens. She drops into a low stance like she’s ready to throw another punch, knees bent, ass pushed back. Every stroke speeds up. Her free hand cups one breast, squeezes the nipple until it stands stiff. The room is quiet except for the wet sound of her fingers and the soft catch of breath each time she rolls her hips forward. She keeps going until her legs shake, until the tension breaks and her whole body shudders in one long, silent knockout.