Her Identity Eludes, But Her Wet Cunt Welcomes

A stranger in the night, she arrives, her body a silhouette against the moonlit window. Her name, a whisper on the wind, lost to time. She strips, her clothes puddling at her feet, revealing a body honed by desire. Her fingers, long and dexterous, trace patterns on her skin, pausing at her cunt. She spreads her lips, revealing her pink, wet center, and begins to stroke, her eyes closed, lost in her own world, her name echoing in the void.

• Unknown