I never wear panties under my leggings

You notice right away — those thick thighs filling out the leggings with absolutely nothing underneath, the fabric pulled tight against every curve of a pawg body built to stop you mid-scroll.

You can trace every line, every soft swell of flesh pressing through the material, and your eyes refuse to move on. You feel something shift in your chest, then lower, a slow heat spreading outward from your core.

You already know what you want. You want your hands exactly where your gaze keeps landing, fingers gripping, pulling close, learning the weight of all that warmth against your palms.