Bare Bliss - Episode 3

Celia stands at the bedroom mirror and drops her robe. The silk slides down her spine and pools at her feet. She cups her breasts, rolls the nipples between her fingers until they stand tight and pink, then slides one hand down the plane of her belly and slips two fingers between her legs. She is already wet. She parts her folds, finds her clit, and rubs slow circles until her thighs start to tremble. A soft moan escapes. She climbs onto the bed, knees apart, and presses three fingers inside herself. The stretch pulls another sound from her throat. She fucks herself in short, quick thrusts, hips rolling, until the wet sounds fill the room and her breath comes ragged. Her free hand returns to her breast, pinching hard enough to sting. She curls her fingers upward, hits the place that makes her jolt, and works it relentlessly. Heat coils low and tight. She adds a fourth finger, rocking her whole hand now, palm grinding against her clit with each thrust. Her inner walls flutter and squeeze. The orgasm hits fast, sharp, a sudden rush of liquid heat that spills over her fingers and onto the sheets. She keeps moving through it, drawing it out until her arm shakes and the aftershocks ebb. Only then does she slow, withdraw her hand, and bring her glistening fingers to her mouth. She licks them clean, tasting herself, eyes half-lidded, chest still heaving.