Yoga pants on the floor, ready for your spank

You notice the yoga pants pooled on the floor before anything else — a petite frame standing bare above them, curved just enough to make your hand twitch.

You feel the pull immediately, that specific hunger that tightens in your chest and drops lower. You want to trace every line of that compact body slowly, deliberately, making sure nothing goes unappreciated.

You already know exactly where your palm lands first. You can almost hear the sound before it happens, sharp and satisfying, and you watch the anticipation written across that waiting body like an invitation you have every intention of accepting.