Blue suede shoes

She kicks off her sandals the second she walks in. The leather slaps the floor, forgotten. Blonde hair loose over her shoulders, she drops onto the edge of the bed and spreads her thighs without a second thought. One hand slides between her legs. The other reaches for the vibrator already warm from her grip. She presses it flat against her clit and switches it on. A low buzz fills the room. Her breath catches. Hips roll up to meet the toy, slow at first, then faster, chasing the throb that’s building between her folds. She’s wet in seconds. The toy glistens each time she pulls it back to tease her opening before dragging it up again. Her free hand cups one breast, fingers pinching the nipple hard enough to make her gasp. She doesn’t bother with anything fancy. Just pressure. Just rhythm. Just the toy working her clit in tight circles until her legs start to shake. When she comes it’s sudden and messy, a sharp cry cutting through the quiet, thighs squeezing around her own hand. She keeps the vibrator pressed there through the aftershocks, riding every last twitch, until her breathing evens out and the toy finally slips from her fingers onto the sheets.