Bikini babe

She stands in the doorway wearing the purple bikini like it was made for her skin. Tiny triangles cover just enough to tease. The fabric clings to every curve, the color sharp against her smooth tan. She turns slowly, letting the light catch the glossy straps and the way the bottoms sit high on her hips. Her fingers trail down her own stomach, then dip lower, pressing lightly against the thin material between her legs. She bites her lip and smiles, breathing faster now. The hand keeps moving in small, steady circles. Her free hand cups one breast, thumb brushing the nipple until it stiffens against the fabric. She leans back against the wall, knees softening, and slides her fingers under the bikini bottom to touch herself directly. Soft, wet sounds fill the room as she works her fingers in tight rhythm. Her breath catches. Her hips roll forward to meet every stroke. She comes with a quiet, broken moan, thighs trembling, the purple fabric still twisted around her knuckles.