In a romantic mood

Just look at this white gauze dress, frills and all. Every time I slip it on, something inside me stirs. I feel the hem brush my bare thighs and suddenly my mind drifts to him, the perfect man who might appear at any moment. Heat starts low in my belly. I sink onto the bed, legs falling open. My fingers slip beneath the fabric and find the soft blonde curls between them. I stroke slowly, teasing the slick folds until a quiet gasp escapes. My other hand cups one small breast, thumb circling the nipple through the thin cloth. Eyes closed, breath quickening, I picture strong hands replacing mine, pushing the dress higher, taking me deeper. The rhythm builds. A soft moan. Then another. I bite my lip, hips lifting into each touch, chasing that sweet rush until my body tightens and breaks. I shiver through it, pulse fluttering against my own fingers, the dress clinging to warm, damp skin. Still trembling, I smile, already wondering when the fantasy will become real.