...door left cracked, didn’t hear you come in. Thick blonde sprawled across the couch in purple lace—shouldn’t be watching this, but she’s already wet just from knowing someone’s there. Fingers slip inside slow at first, then faster when she glances toward the hallway like she’s testing if you’re still listening. Legs part wider when your breath catches; now both hands are buried between her thighs, biting her lip because she knows. Wouldn’t stop even if you walked in. This isn’t a show—it’s something private.
