Pink fever

She stands there in a delicate pink lace bodysuit, the sheer fabric barely hiding the color underneath. Her fingers slide over the thin straps at her hips, then dip between her thighs. The folds are a soft pink too, flushed and slick. She spreads them with two fingertips, lets the camera watch, then rubs slow circles over her clit. The pink fabric of her outfit clings to her breasts as she arches. She keeps her legs wide and works her fingers faster, breathing harder. Her lips part, glossy with spit. Every movement looks deliberate, practiced. She slides one finger inside, then two, pumping slow and deep while her thumb presses on her clit. Her hips roll up to meet her hand. She smiles like she knows exactly how good the view looks from this angle.