The Coolness of Silk on Burning Skin

Album NO.460

Description

In the pool of early morning sun, she is not a woman; she is a deep teal illusion. Your invisible hand begins its journey on her bare back, following the thin strap down to where the cool silk begins. Desire is a predator, and it leads you to the richest prey: her round ass, imprinted deeply into the white mattress. You press your entire palm down, crushing the silk, feeling her warmth searing you. The hem rides up, an irresistible invitation. Your hand slides into the darkness beneath, where the inner thigh is warm and soft, and the silk is slick and cool. You don't touch her; you torture her with her own fabric. The hunger for scent explodes. You bury your face in the silk, inhaling the scent of ultimate contrast: cool silk and burning flesh. That scent is the starting gun. You unleash your roaring cock. You press it against her deep teal silken ass, beginning to grind, turning subtle torture into a raw execution. You erupt, leaving a hot stream, a searing white mark on the deep teal illusion, proof that its coolness has now been utterly conquered by your heat.