Fountain of youth

She found it right between her thighs. One touch and the heat rushes back, smooths the years away like water over skin. Blonde hair spills across the pillow while she slips two fingers inside, slow at first, then greedy. The lace of her lingerie clings to her hips as she spreads wider, chasing that pulse that makes everything young again. Her breath quickens. She curls her toes, hips lifting off the bed. No one else needed. Just this steady, wet rhythm and the way her body answers every stroke. When the first wave hits she arches, mouth open, and rides it straight into the next. The fountain never runs dry when you know where to find it.