I'm not wearing anything under my dress today. Not a hint of fabric between my skin and your thoughts. Every step, every movement lets the thin material brush over my bare breasts - my nipples are hard, have been for a long time. I can feel them pushing through the fabric and I know you've seen it. I like that.
When I sit down on your lap, I consciously press myself against you. I can feel how hard you are. How much you want me. And I move - slowly, rubbing, so that you can feel every wet millimetre of my lust. Without taking anything off. Not yet.
My breathing quickens because I know exactly what I'm about to do to you. My hand slides between my thighs, right in front of your eyes. I stroke myself - wet, hot, ready - and then I slowly bring my fingers to your mouth. "Can you taste that?" I ask softly. "This is all for you."
I want to feel you lose control. How you grab me, turn me, take me - not carefully, not hesitantly. I want your hands everywhere, your mouth in all the right places. I want your hunger. And I want to satisfy it. Bit by bit.