Tormenting the Softness of the Silk

Album NO.400

Description

Your invisible hand glides over the baby pink satin tightly embracing her breasts, feeling the provocative tension through the cool fabric. But that's just the prelude. The hand slides down, seeking where her round ass is being tormented between flesh and the cold bench. You press your entire palm against it, feeling the ultimate contrast: the heat of flesh, the slickness of silk, and the inanimate cold of stone. The fabric is stretched to its limit, unforgivingly revealing the sinful outline of her underwear. You squeeze hard, pinching tightly, leaving the imprint of your five fingers. The madness of touch demands a scent to be complete. You can't help but lean in, inhaling deeply right over the white satin surface, swallowing the scent of surrender: 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 act of 'tormenting' into an undeniable mark, a wet patch on the conquered softness.