Newcomer Cherry Pink

Cherry’s new to this. Her fingers usually stop at the waistband, but tonight that sweet itch between her legs won’t quit. She starts slow, cupping her small tits through thin fabric, rolling her nipples until they stand stiff. Her flat belly tightens as her hand slips lower, stroking the soft skin just above her mound. When she finally parts her thighs, the first brush of her fingertip sends a jolt straight through her. She laughs under her breath—quiet, surprised—then does it again, slower, circling the swelling bud until her breath catches. Eyes half-closed, she teases herself with tiny flicks, dips her finger inside, draws it out glistening. She brings the wet digit to her lips, tastes herself, then slides it back down, chasing the heat that keeps building. Each stroke is a lesson she’s eager to learn, every soft whimper proof she’s done being shy.