Discovering Hidden Beauty in my ghost friend nsfw

“my ghost friend nsfw” is morning light through lace curtains. She wakes tangled in white sheets, hair wild, skin warm. The first thing “my ghost friend nsfw” 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 “my ghost friend nsfw” an unobstructed view of fingers plunging in and out, thumb relentless on her clit. Sunbeams dance across trembling thighs. In “my ghost friend nsfw”, she comes quietly at first—then louder, back bowing off the mattress, crying “my ghost friend nsfw” like a prayer into the empty room as pulses milk her fingers dry.