I want you to play with them

Your eyes drop straight to the cleavage — deep, soft, and impossible to ignore.

You feel the pull in your chest before your brain catches up, that specific hunger that starts behind your ribs and moves lower. You want to reach out, to press your palms against that warmth, to feel the weight of what's being offered so deliberately.

You already know exactly what you'd do. You'd take your time, use your hands slowly, watch every reaction. You understand this invitation completely — and every part of you wants to accept it.