Bathroom Kink

She won’t pretend this is anything but pure indulgence. Franciska steps into the bathroom, already wet, already hard. The nipples stand tight against the thin fabric of her top, a clear give-away of what’s coming. She peels everything away—slow enough for the eye to linger, quick enough to show she’s impatient. No coy glances, no modest hand between her thighs. She plants her feet on the cool tile, spreads, and lets the camera see everything: slick folds, glistening clit, the tight pink entrance that twitches when she brushes it. Her fingers are long, her touch exact. Two slide in easy; her thumb circles the swollen nub above them. A soft curse slips out, followed by a low laugh because she knows we’re watching and she likes it. She grabs a slim silver toy from the counter, coats it with her own wetness, then presses the blunt tip to her entrance. It sinks in on a single smooth push. Her back arches, tits lifted, nipples dark and sharp. She fucks herself in short, greedy strokes, hips rolling to meet every thrust, free hand pinching and tugging the hard peaks on her chest until the tension snaps. A guttural moan breaks loose as she comes, pussy pulsing visibly around the toy, juices dripping down the crease of her ass. She doesn’t stop moving until the last ripple fades, then draws the toy out with a wet sound and offers the camera one last, shameless view of her open, flushed cunt.