Cutie

Misha walks in like she owns the floor. One look and the word is obvious: cutie. Then she starts stripping, laughing at her own moves, letting the clothes drop without hurry. Her hands find her own skin fast. Fingers tease and press, slow at first, then faster. She spreads herself open on the couch, thighs wide, and works that small, pink center until her breath breaks into short gasps. The teasing smile never leaves her face. Blonde hair falls over her eyes as her hips roll, chasing each wave of pleasure. She’s in no rush, yet every stroke says she knows exactly what she wants—and how to take it.