She parts her thighs just enough to tease, the soft folds of her sex catching the light in a way that makes your mouth go dry.

You lean closer, drawn by warmth and the faint scent of her arousal, fingers hovering just a breath away from that delicate, pink center.

Every subtle curve invites your touch — slow, deliberate, unhurried. You trace the edges of her with your gaze first, memorizing what your hands already ache to explore.