Amid the tumult of daily life and the occasional dull daily routine, she sought release. Not permanent release, of course. She was much too good at her job to want out. In fact, her self-made success only boosted her confidence further, and that was just the fuel her embers needed to kindle the fire.
She was the quintessential modern woman, and a voracious feminist. She needed no man before, and she certainly did not need one now.
Of course, human company is not all that bad, but no one had a greater desire for the flesh of her body than she did. Her voluptuous physique tempted her with the sort of girl-on-girl experience some women may only dream of. Yet here she was standing in front of the mirror beholding the most succulent pair of breasts. Her flesh began to ripple. The thin hairs on her lightly tanned forearms stiffened erectly in unison as libido brushed her skin with electric current. Sudden bolts of lightning fed her body with energy as her imagination warmed up. Her velvet areolas shrunk to half their former dimensions while her nipples became tumescent.
For a few seconds she admired her beauty with a faint coy smile that was followed by a bite of her sweet bottom lip. She lusted for that woman in the mirror, and by-God, she would have her. The door was locked and in those predawn hours, she was the only soul awake.
With gentle caresses, she ran her fingers down her neck and around her shoulders and forearms to relax her trembling limbs. Then, she ran the warm palms of her hands down the middle of her chest, and around her stiff nipples, and down her stomach, stopping just before the gates of paradise. She was aroused, and the mere anticipation of what would ensue made her heart palpitate tenfold.
She now sat on the bar stool she had brought in front of the bathroom mirror. It wasn’t the most comfortable set up, but it would do nonetheless. She spread her legs to have a clear view of the seat of her womanhood. It was here that the magna opera of her own divine creation was manifest. Her womb, which carried her from princess-hood to queendom, was smooth and radiant. The gates of the barbican that stood at the front of her majestically walled fortification bloomed as they opened gently.
She closed her eyes now and ran just the tip of her index, middle, and ring fingers down the hood of her pearl and through the middle of her nether-lips, drawing in a quiet yet sudden inhalation. The electric current that had run through her whole body now ran from her fingers through her genitalia, and she was not surprised to discover that droplets of her feminine nectar were streaming from within her. The honey trickled down the exit of her blossom and down her perineum. Her hips twitched as her body tingled with static. Cupping the inside of her left thigh close to her buttock with one hand, she ventured to glide her fingers around her labia with gyration. As she heaved and her hips moved with rhythmic oscillations, her aperture was probed almost unwittingly–half a result of her pelvis drawing closer to her fingers and the other half caused by her yearning to be inside herself.
She was now in, and the waves of euphoria seized her. A plethora of story-lines set in fantasy shot through her mind at the speed of light and she was barely able to connect them or grasp onto any of the details as she became enthralled with the expressions of pleasure she caught on her face when her eyes halfway opened to see herself in the mirror. Rapture was near, and there were no signs of her slowing down.
Her toes tensed and released periodically as her most sensitive regions were indulged. Deep in concentration, her body gained a sense of levitation. She was in the clouds, enveloped in sunlight, resting on a bed of lotuses, perfumed in the fragrance of jasmines, and all creation bowed to her majesty, spectators to her artful process. Her bronze limbs tensed almost enough to curl inward toward her abdomen as blood pulsed through every vein and artery in her body. She was gasping loudly now as her head hung back, almost unhinging off her neck and rolling off her shoulders. Dozens of butterflies flapped their silky wings all over her body and most gathered near her womb as she drifted into paradise. Her legs shook with vibrating twitches as her toes curled inward and the interior of her womb and the gates of her domain pulsated vigorously. For several seconds she sat there, bathing in the aroma of her art with glee. Consumed by the fire of passion, she rose to heaven a queen to descend a goddess among mortals.