The soft texture of fresh new knickers stroking over the smooth skin of your long legs, as you elegantly pull them home.
Satisfied with the sexy cling of their intimate fit, you savor some secret words shared in a recent letter. A confession. Knowing your lover held these same knickers in his hands as he’d perused the many boutique lingerie stores looking for little intimate things to spoil you with.
You remember his writing. The private pictures he’s shared. Knowing these same knickers have been held in his hands, knowing these knickers have secrets all of their own. They’ve not just been handpicked, caressed, carefully wrapped and mailed from far overseas. Oh no. They have far naughtier stories to tell.
An artist’s imagery of your muse body painted on the canvas of his creative mind. Rendered in rich oils, as he stroked his cock like a sable brush, longingly aching for the canvas of your body. Straining to paint his name into the fabric of you.
Confidently you slip your classical feet into a pair of gorgeous leather heeled sandals, buckling them at the ankle, another admiring gift from your lover secretly sent through the mail.
Your new dress rests across the bed, inviting you to slip on this new bought garment. And turning to face the tall, floor standing frame, of your baroque white lacquered bedroom mirror, you admit to your reflection how in his eyes you’re as striking as the first time he saw you.
You run your hands down over the soft deep green feel of the dress, smoothing it over your body, appreciating how complimentary the color fits against your olive rich skin tones.
Sensing the swirling ocean of color igniting in your eyes, framed in the halo of you deep dark brunette hair, always reminding him of forest bark after heavy rain, such a dark, rich arboreal brown.
The reflection in your mirror pleases you. The colors and the combinations, the smooth youthful sheen of your legs rising from the elegant leather of your sandals, the outline of your frame as feline as ever. Faultless, as fragile as it is strong. A gift to the eyes of those who know.
And the deep green of the dress, clinging to your slender frame with a demure elegance, refusing to betray the sexy raunch of those saucy secrets hidden beneath.
You slip your hand down to the hem of your dress and slowly reveal more of yourself to the mirror. Imaging the pleasure you’ll see caught in the light of your lover’s eyes as they delight on the burlesque imagery of your slow reveal, as you inch your hem a little higher.
Imagining his eyes igniting as they climb the lines of your thighs, uncovering the delicate lace that clings to your hip and the silky secrets of those hand chosen knickers now revealed, his cock throbbing with the memory of their soft lace and fabric gripped against his skin.
Recalling every slow tugging moment, the stroke of those same knickers, gripped against his phallus, his cock stroking in his hand.
You lift your iPad and with a simple click, you capture the moment.
Then tap to send…