Lacy

She slips into black lace anklets that grip her ankles like a whisper and long gloves that reach past her elbows, thin enough to hint at what they cover. The look is pure tease. Her body fills it out slowly, each movement deliberate. Blonde hair spills over her shoulders while she touches herself, tracing curves, lingering on the swell of her ass. The fabric hugs tight, outlining every inch, and her fingers press harder where the lace stops. She stretches out, ass up, and lets her hands wander, letting the quiet room fill with the sound of her breath catching.