Squatting low on heeled sandals, crouching on hindquarters, your thighs spreading over painted toes. Your sex soaking heavily, pressing down into the blade of your thong, the cut riding high on your hips, stretching, tugging, the silk and the lace pulling into the soft clam of your cunt.

You ache to touch, to stir your fingertips against the split, but you can’t, your wrists are bound, He grips them in his hands and offers you his cock. You wet your lips and feel their stretch as you push them over him.