Hungry

Mandy came home empty-handed. The party had looked promising, but none of the men there had dared to finish what their hungry looks started. Alone now, she didn’t bother feeling disappointed. She stepped into her bedroom, peeled off the party dress, and slid into a tight set of glossy red crocodile-skin lingerie that barely covered her full breasts. The fabric clung to her like a second skin. She stood in front of the mirror, met her own gaze, and smiled. Her hands moved slowly, tracing the swell of her tits, cupping their weight, and brushing the sensitive tips until her nipples pushed against the red material. She imagined a man sitting in the chair behind her, cock hard, watching. That picture made her wetter. She sank onto the bed, closed her eyes, and let the fantasy take over. One hand slipped beneath the thin crotch of her panties. Her fingers found slick heat. She spread her lips and slid two fingers inside her tight pussy, sighing as they moved in a steady rhythm. Each stroke brought the night she’d wanted closer, until nothing existed except the wet sound of her fingers working and the throb building low in her belly.