Butterfly Sophie

Sophie steps into frame wearing wings that catch the light, white stockings tight around her thighs and the hem of her little dress barely covering anything. She meets the lens like a secret passed across a pillow, then drops her hand between her legs. Her fingers work in slow, greedy circles, parting her lips, pressing harder each time her breath catches. The wings quiver with every roll of her hips. She never looks away, letting the camera watch as she sinks two fingers deep, pulls them out slick, circles her clit again until her thighs start to tremble. A quick, wet sound fills the room every time she thrusts. Her other hand squeezes one breast through the thin fabric, pinching the nipple until it stiffens against her palm. She keeps the rhythm steady, fucking herself in unhurried strokes that grow wetter, louder, until her stomach tightens and her mouth falls open in a silent cry. The wings shake. She drags her fingers out one last time, glistening, and strokes her swollen clit until the last shiver runs through her.