Leave your stockings on

David can't keep his eyes off her legs. The second they reach his place he tells her to keep the stockings on. They make her ass look tighter. She smiles, steps out of her skirt, and turns so he can stare while she bends over the arm of the couch. He steps up behind her, grips her hips through the thin lace tops, and pushes in slow. The stockings stay. He never looks away. Every thrust makes the taut nylon shift on her thighs, and every time she glances back she sees the hunger in his eyes. She loves giving him that view. She pushes back harder, stockings whispering against his skin, until his rhythm falters and he pulls out, stroking himself across her open mouth. The hot ropes land across her tongue and over her chin while the black lace still clings to her legs.