Home alone

She steps out of her robe like she's already late for something. The flat is quiet, the kind of quiet that leaves room for thoughts to get loud. Angelika walks to her room with the easy stride of someone who knows exactly what she wants and has the place to herself to take it. On the nightstand waits a smooth silicone cock, modest but curved just right, catching the afternoon light that slants across the bed. She stretches out, legs falling open with the casual grace of habit. Her hand finds her cunt first, two fingers slipping through the slick warmth already gathering there. She circles her clit a few times, lazy strokes that turn deliberate when her hips start to rise. A soft moan escapes her, half surprise, half satisfaction. The dildo comes next. She sucks the head once, twice, letting her spit run down its length before she reaches between her thighs and presses the tip to her asshole. The first push draws a sharp breath. She gives herself a moment, eyes half-closed, then rocks her wrist in a slow, measured rhythm that lets the toy sink deeper with each careful stroke. Her free hand stays busy, two fingers working her clit in tight circles that match the motion inside her. The bed creaks once beneath her. Her mouth parts. She looks right at the camera like she knows someone's watching, and the glance says more than any invitation could. She keeps going, steady and unhurried, lost in the private rhythm she has all afternoon to perfect.