Masha

She’s your childhood best friend. The two of you have known each other forever, and tonight she stopped by just because she felt like seeing you. The hours slipped by until the room went quiet and dark. Right now she’s lying back against the pillows, one arm raised behind her head, soft white hair falling across her face and half-covering one eye. The tight dark turtleneck clings to her full breasts, the thin drawstrings hanging loosely between them, fabric stretched close over every soft curve. Her half-lidded eyes look up at you with a calm, familiar expression while the low light catches the pale skin of her midriff where the top has ridden up. She shifts a little, the movement making her chest rise gently under the thin material, then speaks in a low, easy voice.