Horny vacation

I skip the postcards. Instead, every day I send clips of me playing on my own. This one was shot right in my room at the villa. Sandy had left for the day, so the bed felt too big and too empty. I lay back where we’d been tangled the night before, knees spread wide, and let my fingers take over where her mouth had been. They knew the rhythm she liked—quick, teasing circles at first, then slower presses that made my hips lift off the sheets. The camera caught every flick and every soft gasp that slipped out when I found the spot she always teased until I shook. Alone, I came harder than I expected, proof that her tongue was good, but my fingers weren’t too far behind.