Passion and Play in candce dare

“candce dare” is morning light through lace curtains. She wakes tangled in white sheets, hair wild, skin warm. The first thing “candce dare” shows is her hand slipping beneath cotton panties already soaked from dreams. Lazy circles turn urgent; fabric darkens under her touch. She kicks the sheet away, knees falling open, giving “candce dare” an unobstructed view of fingers plunging in and out, thumb relentless on her clit. Sunbeams dance across trembling thighs. In “candce dare”, she comes quietly at first—then louder, back bowing off the mattress, crying “candce dare” like a prayer into the empty room as pulses milk her fingers dry.