Graceful self-fisting

Bambi moves across the deck with the poise of a dancer. Her legs stretch long under sun-warmed skin, the arch of her neck elegant as she lowers herself to the edge of the pool. The water catches the light, turning her pale hair almost white. She spreads her thighs, fingers sliding down to open herself wide. One finger, then two. Soon her knuckles press, disappearing inside with a wet, greedy sound. She breathes through parted lips, eyes half-closed, watching the slow stretch of her own body. The fist sinks deeper, wrist flexing, knuckles turning beneath the tight grip of her cunt. Nothing dainty now—just the steady rhythm of her arm working, the muscles in her stomach jumping each time her hand twists deeper. Her moans come low and broken, the wet slap of skin echoing off the water. A thin sheen of sweat beads along her collarbone, sliding down between her small breasts. She rocks her hips forward, chasing the next slow, deliberate thrust of her own hand, lost in the filthy pleasure of it.