When the Gaze Becomes a Hand

Album NO.217

Description

You can't look away. All the sounds of the park dissolve, leaving only one target: the mass of white silk stretched taut on the stone bench. Your invisible hand is already there, gliding over the smooth surface, feeling the contrast between the warmth of her skin radiating through and the coolness of the fabric. You imagine the sensation of your fingers tracing along the round curve, feeling every fiber of the fabric straining in resistance. Now, in your mind, you lean in closer, inhaling deeply, imagining the scent of clean silk blended with the warm smell of a woman's flesh beneath, a scent potent enough to drive you mad. The desire is now uncontrollable. Hiding behind a tree, one hand relentlessly strokes your hard cock inside your pants, the other grips the rough tree bark tightly. Your eyes are locked on that inviting mass of white silk, which gently pulses with her every breath. You quicken your pace, your mind consumed by the image of the glossy, stretched silk and the imminent explosion, until you release all your pent-up anticipation into the darkness, your body trembling in silence.