When the Hand Possesses the Silk on its Own

Album NO.546

Description

The white bed is not for rest; it is an altar. And her hand, lightly clutching the silk on her thigh, is the invitation. Your invisible hand begins its pilgrimage, sliding down to where her ass is arching in offering. You don't just place your hand on it; you place your hand over hers, gripping tighter, turning her unconscious act into a shared possession. The silk stretches breathtakingly tight. The hunger for scent explodes. You bury your face in the silk, inhaling the scent of an accepted invitation: pure silk and warm flesh. The invitation has been accepted. Now it's your time to answer. You release your hardness, pressing it directly where the bronze-gold silk is stretched to its limit. You begin to grind. The slick, cool smoothness of the silk, combined with her heat beneath, creates a perfect simulation of the most forbidden pleasure. You thrust faster, turning the rustle of silk into her own moan, and explode, leaving your wet verdict on that invitation, an undeniable conquest.