Party girl

Peaches plays alone because that’s how she likes it best. No one watching. No rules except the ones she makes up. She slides onto the green felt, thighs parted just enough for cool air to lick her. Blonde hair spills across the table as she leans back, skirt riding up until her panties flash—black lace, already damp at the center. Her free hand drifts between her legs, rubbing slow circles while the other toys with a cue ball, rolling it up her stomach. Each little push against the fabric makes her hips twitch. She slips her fingers under the lace, parts herself, finds the slick heat waiting there. Two fingers sink in at once, and a soft gasp breaks from her lips. The brunette standing by the wall mirror watches every move, waiting her turn. Peaches curls her toes against the wood trim, fucking herself deeper, faster, the cue ball forgotten, the whole table rocking with her rhythm. She doesn’t stop until her thighs shake and her moan echoes off the empty room.