The air in the dimly lit room feels thick and warm, soft pink neon lights casting gentle shadows across the walls. The window is slightly ajar, letting in a cool breeze that barely stirs the curtains, but inside everything is cozy and heated—my skin already has a thin sheen of sweat. I’m completely naked except for the thin black satin ribbons tied loosely around my wrists—little reminders that I’m your sweet bunny. My hair spills over my shoulders, a few damp strands clinging to my forehead from the building heat. I’m lying on my side in the middle of the bed, left side sunk into the pillow, head tilted slightly forward. My right leg is bent at the knee and pulled up high, opening my hips even more invitingly. My left leg stretches out straight, toes lightly brushing the sheets. In this position my ass naturally parts just enough—my entrance fully exposed, soft and waiting, practically begging. In my hand is my favorite toy: realistic flesh-tone silicone, thick yet flexible, with beautifully raised veins running along its length. The tip is gently rounded, perfect for easing in slowly. I run my fingers over it first, coating it generously with lube. My fingertips glide smoothly now, and when the toy touches my skin it feels almost warm, almost alive. I tease the insides of my thighs with the tip, dragging it slowly upward, brushing just beside my clit. A tiny, sweet shiver ripples through my lower belly; my breath escapes through my nose in a soft hiss. I press the rounded head against my entrance. Lying on my side makes everything feel closer, more intimate. I ease my hips back just a fraction… and it begins to slide in, millimeter by millimeter. The very first inch parts me and a quiet “mmhh…” slips from my parted lips. That delicious fullness starts to open me up, my inner walls instinctively clenching around it, welcoming it deeper. I take a slow, deep breath and pause, savoring, then push again. Inch by inch it sinks inside until my belly feels that wonderful heavy pressure spreading outward. I don’t rush to take it all. When it’s finally fully seated it fits so perfectly… the raised veins press lightly against my inner walls with every tiny breath I take. My muscles pulse around it rhythmically—squeeze, release, squeeze—like I’m caressing it from the inside. One arm is tucked under my head, fingers lazily tangled in my own hair. The other hand slides back to my hip; I dig my fingers into soft flesh and gently pull myself onto the toy, sinking it just that tiny bit deeper. My nails press crescent marks into my skin—the faint sting only makes everything feel sharper, hotter. Now the rhythm begins. I rock my hips very slowly forward and back. Each forward motion buries it deeper, each backward pull drags those veins along my sensitive walls with slick friction. Wet, rhythmic sounds fill the quiet room—soft, slippery, obscene little noises that make my cheeks burn. My breathing quickens; the moans I can’t hold back anymore come out low and needy. “Ahh… yes… right there…” I whisper to myself, voice husky and wet. My free hand drifts to my chest. Fingertips circle my nipples slowly, then pinch and tug gently. They’re already hard and sensitive; every touch sends tiny sparks straight down to my core. The other hand slips lower, fingers finding my clit and starting slow, lazy circles. Everything is so slick—my fingers glide effortlessly, and each rotation builds the heat higher. My hip movements gradually speed up. Even on my side, every roll changes the angle inside me. One moment a thick vein catches exactly that sweet spot and my whole body clenches hard. The next it slides deeper, pressing that heavy, delicious weight right against my stomach. My thighs start to tremble; my raised knee pulls even higher, opening me wider. I catch my reflection in the mirror across the room. Cheeks flushed bright pink, eyes glassy and half-lidded, lips parted and glistening. Strands of hair stick to my sweaty face; a few fall across my mouth. My chest rises and falls quickly, nipples dark and peaked. My hips keep rocking in steady rhythm, the toy disappearing and reappearing between my cheeks—that sight alone pushes me closer to the edge. I pick up the pace just a little more. Now I’m grinding in small circles, making the toy rotate inside me, hitting new sensitive places with every turn. The wet sounds grow louder; the bed creaks softly beneath me. My breathing is ragged, moans long and broken. The familiar tight coil in my lower belly climbs higher, spreading to my chest, my neck. One hand speeds up on my clit—faster little circles, pressure just right. The other grips my hip harder, nails digging in. I push the toy as deep as it will go and lock my hips, clenching hard around it. My whole body arches like a bow—legs shaking, fingers clawing at the sheets, toes curling. And then it hits. Wave after long, shuddering wave. My inner walls pulse and flutter around the toy in strong, rhythmic spasms, milking it like I never