You should slide my panties to the side and give me the fucking I deserve (f)

You're looking at a body that radiates something unmistakably Indian — warm brown skin glowing like it was made to be touched, curves that pull your hands forward before your mind catches up.

You feel your breath change the longer you look. You notice the way the fabric clings and shifts, barely doing its job, practically begging you to finish what it started. You want to hook one finger into the waistband and find out exactly what's underneath.

You already know what you'd do. You'd grip those hips, pull that fabric aside, and give every inch of this exactly what it's asking for.