Sweet Claudia

Claudia lingers at the edge of her bed, blonde hair spilling loose over narrow shoulders. Eighteen, maybe nineteen, still learning how to wear her body like new lingerie. She reaches behind her back, unhooks the bra, and lets the lace fall away. Her small breasts rise and fall with each breath, soft and pale, the nipples tightening in the cool air. Her fingers drift lower. She hooks her thumbs into the waistband of the matching panties, tugs them down smooth thighs, steps free. Naked now except for the flush across her chest, she sinks onto the mattress, legs parting of their own accord. One hand cups her right breast, rolling the nipple between thumb and finger, while the other slides between her legs. She’s already wet, slick heat meeting her touch. She starts slow, two fingers tracing slow circles, then quicker, firmer. Her hips lift and fall in time with the rhythm she sets. A soft gasp slips out when she presses inside. She pulls back, spreads the wetness higher, finds the spot that makes her breath hitch. Her eyes stay half-lidded, mouth parted, the picture of sweet concentration. The rhythm builds. Her thighs tremble. The delicate muscles of her stomach tighten. She presses her palm flat against her clit and grinds, chasing it. A single sharp cry escapes her as the orgasm rolls through, sudden and bright. She rides it out, fingers slowing, breathing still ragged, until the aftershocks fade and she lies still, one arm flung above her head, a small satisfied smile curving her lips.