Wardrobe Malfucktion

Bonnie Dolce stands in front of the mirror, dress hugging her slim frame, blonde hair catching the light. One strap has slipped, the fabric pulling tight across her chest. Matthew Meier notices the gap before she does. “Your dress,” he says. Bonnie glances down, sees the swell of pale skin and the tight bead of her nipple. She tugs the material back into place, fingers brushing over the small mound. The touch sends a quick pulse between her legs. Matthew steps closer, eyes fixed on the place where her fingers press. Her nipples tighten further under the thin fabric. She slides a hand down the front of her dress, lifts the hem, and lets her fingers trail between her thighs. Matthew watches her touch herself, the slow circles she makes over her clit. When she bends slightly, the dress rides up again. Her hand moves back, one slim finger pressing between the cheeks of her ass, teasing the tight ring of muscle. Matthew reaches for her, grips her hip, and she pushes back into his palm. Bonnie works the finger deeper, knuckles brushing her own skin. Her breath catches. Matthew slips a second finger in alongside hers, stretching her slowly, the heat of her body gripping both of them. She rocks forward, small breasts rising and falling with each push. The dress slips again. Neither of them bothers to fix it this time.