Naughty

Vica sits on the toilet seat, panties stretched tight around her ankles, black hair falling over one shoulder. Her hand slips between her thighs and she strokes herself slow at first, then faster, chasing the itch that never quits. The porcelain is cool against her skin while she works her fingers over slick folds, breath coming in short, sharp bursts. A heel lifts, toes flexing, as if even the smallest part of her needs release. She bites her lip, eyes half-closed, lost in the rhythm until her legs tremble and the tension finally cracks.