When the Wind Kisses the Hair

Album NO.377

Description

Your invisible hand glides over the white silk, feeling her tense breasts, then slides down her waist, slipping through the inviting slit of her tunic. The final destination is her round ass, wrapped in taut white satin. You press your entire palm against it, feeling the searing heat of her flesh against the cold stone pedestal. The fabric reveals every detail of the panty line within. You squeeze hard, gripping tightly, pressing the soft flesh against the hard surface, hearing the dry, raw rustle. The madness of touch demands a scent to be complete. You lean down, inhaling deeply right over the white silk surface, swallowing the scent of contrast: the pure smell of new silk, a hint of sun, and the warm scent of compressed flesh. That scent is the detonator. Reason ceases to exist. You whip out your cock, no friction needed, only release. You erupt everything onto that white silk, turning the sinful boundary into a soiled trophy in broad daylight.