Office lust

Angel walks into the room wearing only black lace garterbelt and sheer thigh-high stockings. The dark lace hugs her hips. The stocking tops gleam against her skin. She moves behind the desk, leans forward, and lets her fingers trail along her own thighs. Her brunette hair falls across one shoulder. She sits on the edge, crosses one leg over the other, and slips a heel off. Bare toes flex inside the sheer nylon. She watches them as they flex, then lifts the foot higher, letting the light catch every line. Her free hand drifts between her legs, pressing against the thin strip of fabric still covering her. Soft breaths escape her parted lips. She rubs herself slowly through the lace, the motion growing firmer. Her toes curl and stretch again, pressing against the desk surface. She leans back, legs opening wider, one heel still on, the other foot bare in stocking. Her fingers slip beneath the fabric now, slick sounds rising as she works herself faster. Every small shift of her foot draws her eyes back down. The nylon tightens over her arch. Her chest rises and falls quicker. She presses two fingers deep, hips rolling against her own hand while her toes keep flexing in the stocking, the rhythm matching each thrust. Her free hand grips the desk edge. She comes with a sharp moan, thighs quivering, toes clenched tight inside the sheer nylon, the lace garter trembling against flushed skin.