Painting my toenails

I tried a new shade this time, something soft and pearly. I took my time with the brush, stroking each toe until the color sat perfect and even. When the last nail was done I stood up and glanced down, liking what I saw. The nails gleamed against my skin, catching the light. I stepped closer to the mirror, toes pointed, hips shifting. Then I let my hand drift lower, sliding over the edge of my lingerie and between my thighs. My fingers worked slowly at first, spreading warmth, then faster as I watched my toes flex. Every small movement made the fresh color flash, and that flash pulled another rush of heat through me until the pleasure built sharp and steady.