Marie is in Sardinia, surrounded by the stillness of a hot summer afternoon.The scene feels timeless — black and white, almost cinematic, echoing a neorealist atmosphere where every detail becomes more intimate, more real.The heat is intense.She needs to cool down.Drawn to a fountain, she moves closer, letting the fresh water run over her skin. She plays with it lightly at first, enjoying the contrast between the cold water and the warmth of her body.But something else is happening.Her thoughts drift, her body responds — and she realizes that her vagina is already wetter than the water itself. The heat inside her hasn’t disappeared. It has grown.She looks up, aware of the camera, of being watched.A playful smile.She begins to tease, to provoke — inviting the gaze, enjoying it.Leaning against the fountain, she lets the water run over her body while her hand moves down, touching her figa bagnata, feeling the intensity of her own arousal. Her fingers find her clitoris, already sensitive, already alive.She starts to masturbate slowly, mixing water and pleasure, heat and freshness.Her movements become more deliberate, more expressive — a performance just as much as a need.The water flows.Her breathing deepens.The tension builds.Until the orgasm rises, powerful and inevitable.Her body tightens, then releases into a strong, full climax, the sensation spreading through her as water continues to run over her skin. For a moment, everything merges — heat, water, pleasure.Then calm.She relaxes, letting the cold water wash over her again, her body soft, satisfied, still glowing from the intensity of the orgasm.

MARIE

Marie is in Sardinia, in the private garden of her house, stretched out on a wooden bench under the heavy summer sun. A book rests in her hands, but the heat slowly dissolves her focus, pulling her deeper into her own thoughts.Her mind begins to wander.She thinks about all the men she has had, all the experiences, the bodies, the pleasure — and the idea of a new summer filled with desire excites her. New encounters, new sensations, new moments where she can lose control.As the fantasy builds, she feels it clearly — her vagina getting wetter, her body opening, responding to every thought. The heat is no longer just around her, it’s inside her.Then something shifts.She becomes aware of being watched.From above, an unseen gaze resting on her body. Instead of stopping, she embraces it. Marie has always been drawn to being seen, to exposing her pleasure, to letting others witness her desire.Slowly, deliberately, she moves.She opens her legs, revealing her figa bagnata, her body no longer hiding anything. Her hand slides down, touching her vagina bagnata, feeling the warmth, the softness, the arousal that has taken over her completely.Her fingers rise to her clitoride, already sensitive, already alive.She begins to touch herself slowly, sensually — not just for her own pleasure, but for the gaze she feels on her. Every movement becomes an invitation, every gesture a silent performance.Her breathing deepens.Her body tightens.The rhythm intensifies as she keeps stimulating her clitoride, lost in the growing pleasure.Until the orgasm rises.Strong. Inevitable.Her body opens completely, tension releasing as the sensation moves through her in deep, powerful waves. For a moment, everything dissolves into pure feeling — the sun, the garden, the gaze, her body.Then stillness.Marie remains there, warm, satisfied, aware that she has been watched… and that she wanted it.

MARIE