Merry Dream

Solitude can feel like a gift. Marry takes hers and runs. She settles in with nothing but time and the soft slide of her own hands. She traces every inch, finds what makes her breath hitch, then presses harder. Pleasure builds fast and she lets it. No need to stay quiet now. She moans freely, legs spread wider, the hum of her toy cutting through the silence. The moans turn sharper, her hips rolling with each throb, until her whole body tightens and she comes, hard and loud, just for herself—and for the eyes watching.