I just want you to like my pale thighs

You can't stop staring at those pale thighs, soft and luminous against the dark fabric beneath them.

You feel something tighten in your chest — and lower — as your eyes trace the smooth, unbroken skin, cool-looking and perfect, the kind you want to press your mouth against just to feel the warmth hiding underneath.

You already like them. You more than like them. You want your hands there, your weight there, your full attention devoted to every inch of that bare, inviting flesh until nothing else exists in the room but this.