Bryiana Noelle

Bryiana Noelle. Five foot three. Skin like warm honey. Black-brown hair that catches the light when she moves. Her eyes hold every story her bloodlines told her: Filipino, Chinese, Spanish, Cherokee, Blackfoot. All of it shows in her face. She stretches naked across white sheets, legs slightly parted, breasts rising with each slow breath. Her nipples tighten as the air touches them. Between her thighs the skin is smooth, shaved clean. She slides two fingers down and parts her lips, letting the camera see the soft pink inside. She rubs slow circles over her clit until it swells. Her hips lift. She pushes those same fingers inside, knuckles disappearing, and draws them back out glistening. She brings them to her mouth, tastes herself, then reaches down again. This time three fingers. She works them deeper, breathing harder, the sound wet and steady. Her thighs tremble. She keeps going until the sheets beneath her darken. She doesn’t look away from the lens once.