Wave of pleasure

She arches her spine against the lounger, the plastic creaking beneath her bare skin. The warm air sticks to her damp thighs, her fingers buried knuckle-deep inside herself, and she moves in a rhythm she doesn't control anymore. Each press of her palm against her clit sends a shudder up her spine, her hips rocking in a slow, greedy circle.

Her toes curl against the lounger's edge. The pool filter hums, steady and oblivious. She bites down on her lower lip, trying to keep quiet, but a thin, whining sound escapes through her teeth as her muscles begin to tighten. The heat inside her swells, coiling low and hot, and she drives her fingers deeper, curling against that soft spot until her vision blurs at the edges.

Then it breaks. A wave of pressure releases through her, her thighs clenching around her own hand, and her body goes rigid. A gush of warm fluid bursts from between her fingers, splattering across the lounger and dripping down her thighs. It hits the concrete with a wet patter, puddling beneath her. She gasps, her back bowing, and another pulse follows, weaker but still unmistakable. Her hand stays pressed between her legs as the last of it trickles out, her chest heaving with the effort of breath.

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