A Naked Invitation from a Fallen Shoulder Strap

Album NO.543

Description

The bedroom light is a silent accomplice, and the fallen strap on her shoulder is not an accident; it is a pact. Your invisible hand begins its journey on her bare skin, then slides down to where the fiery red silk begins. Desire is a pilgrimage, and it leads you down to where the hem of her slip reveals a private world. You accept that invitation, sliding your hand underneath, not to violate flesh, but to torture her with her own silk. You stroke along her inner thigh, turning the fabric into a tool of friction between two worlds: its slickness and her skin's smoothness. That rustle is the silent symphony of surrender. The hunger for scent explodes. You bury your face in the silk, inhaling the scent of a pact about to be sealed: pure silk and warm flesh. That scent is the final permission. You unleash your roaring cock, press it against the silk covering her thigh, where your fingers just tormented her, and erupt. Your hot seed isn't a stain; it is your signature pressed upon that pact, a wet, undeniable seal.