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.
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