Finally, inch by inch, they slide off; whether it is from the teasing or perhaps from the restraint you are keeping on yourself, never have you felt so completely defenceless, so bare, and so naked.
Every inch of you seems to centre in on your womanhood, those soft, swollen, wet petals exposed to the world.
Still that touch avoids the centre of your desires, drifting around your pelvis, sliding across your thighs, making you thrust your hips for more.
The oil seeps down your silk panties, making them cling to the soft curve of your swollen mound even tighter. The trail of a deliberate fingertip against the material feels like a lingering, silk scarfed tongue to your eager sex.
You writhe as the hands sliding down your body embraces your very being, caressing your sensual essence. The downward motion draws every sensation to your stomach, as if drawing the feelings of aching need away from your breasts, down to between your legs.
Your panties pulled up, the fabric becomes little more than an extension of your succulent pussy lips…
