A tale of a night

Let me tell you a tale of the night. There is a woman lying on the bed in the dark of the already fallen night, imagining tender and yet strong fingers sliding towards her soft flesh between her legs. Her hands flow along the trail of imaginary bigger hands. They gently meet and continue the journey together. Her sensitive flower is still a bit closed and needs some waking up. A finger slides in the warm folds and ever so gently beckons the pearl to open up and blossom. Gentle movements along the warm skin further into the folds are helping to wake up the little flower. Moisture is slowly smoothing the way of the seeking finger. There, the flower is budding, circling around the finger closes in on the sensitive and excited bud. Her hips move in circles to support the enticing and arousing movements. The finger is still gentle and yet the strength increases, directly linked to the rapidly increasing rhythm of her hips. Tears slide down her face while she makes love to herself, the beauty of the climax so very very beautiful.