Wet Grass, Hot Thoughts (L)

The sun beat down on my skin, a hot, insistent pressure as I lay sprawled across the damp grass. The scent of freshly cut hay mingled with the salty tang of sweat, a heady combination that did little to calm the insistent throb in my core. My dress, a flimsy white number with barely supportive straps and lace edging, clung to my body, clinging like a second skin, both a testament to my desire and a vulnerability I was willing to embrace. Beneath, my favorite black lace panties, thin in the front and completely devoid of support in the back, were already saturated with a sticky, shimmering liquid – a potent blend of cum and my own arousal.

I’d chosen this spot deliberately, a secluded corner of our property where the privacy felt absolute, yet the anticipation was palpable. The breeze rustled through the nearby trees, a soft, whispering invitation, as if the very air was eager to witness the impending release. I’d dressed specifically for this, stripping away any pretense, any restraint, hoping to ignite a primal fire in you. The touch of the sun on my thighs, the scent of the earth, the feeling of dampness against my skin – it was all designed to heighten the senses, to strip away the last vestiges of control.

I shifted slightly, letting my hips arch, drawing attention to the curve of my breasts, still partially concealed beneath the bra’s delicate straps. The lace was thin, almost invisible, but it served as a tantalizing tease, hinting at the curves beneath, promising a more complete unveiling. A slow, deliberate action, the unzipping of the dress, each pull of the zipper a silent command, a gradual stripping away of inhibitions. The straps slipped down my shoulders, a cascade of lace and silk, revealing the full expanse of my tits, still clinging to the bra, heavy with sweat and anticipation. They bounced slightly as I pushed them together, a blatant display of their size and shape, a visual invitation to indulge.

"Do you like this?" I asked, my voice a husky whisper carried on the breeze, barely audible above the rustling leaves. "You want to see what's underneath?" My gaze locked onto your screen, craving your reaction, your desire. The anticipation hung thick in the air, a tangible force that tightened my muscles, quickened my breath.

I waited, savoring the moment, letting you take the lead. You reached out, fingers tracing the lace edging, a slow, deliberate exploration that sent shivers down my spine. As you moved your hand over your pants, feeling the slickness beneath, I urged you on, my voice a low murmur of encouragement. “Just a little,” I prompted, pushing you further into the depths of your fantasy.

Finally, the moment arrived. You pulled the dress down, revealing my tits in all their glory, exposed and vulnerable beneath the sun. The bra remained, a flimsy barrier against the heat, but it offered little protection against the growing heat between my legs. I lay back, slowly pulling the dress up past my hips, exposing more of the lace panties, now soaked and clinging tightly to my skin. My fingers danced across the edge of the lace, teasing myself and you with a slow, sensual caress.

"I bet your cock's leaking already," I whispered, a playful challenge hanging in the air. I pressed the lace against my nose, inhaling the scent of arousal, letting it fill my lungs. "You want to feel that wetness, don't you?"

You responded with a swift, decisive movement, reaching for the jar of cum-flavored lube. The familiar scent filled the air, a potent reminder of the pleasures to come. I dipped my fingers into the viscous liquid, coating them in its sticky sweetness, and held them up for you, dripping and glistening.

"You ready, baby?" I asked, my voice a breathless plea. "Because now I’m ready to make you stroke."

Your hand found its mark, wrapping around your shaft, the pressure building, the anticipation reaching a fever pitch. You began to stroke slowly, deliberately, savoring the feel of my skin beneath your fingertips. The rhythm was slow, sensual, designed to build the tension, to draw out the pleasure.

As you stroked, I began to ride the toy, pushing it deep into my clit, feeling the sharp, tingling sensation spread through my body. Each thrust, each movement, was an invitation, a challenge, a declaration of my desire. My hips swayed, my breath hitched, my body trembling with anticipation. The world narrowed to the feel of your hand on my shaft, the scent of cum in the air, the heat radiating from my own arousal.

"Spit on it for me," I urged, my voice a low moan, my eyes locked on your screen. As you brought your cock to your lips, a thick string of saliva dripped from your mouth, landing squarely on my pussy, mixing with the slickness, the heat, the pleasure. You continued to stroke, faster now, more insistent, as if mirroring my own rising excitement.

The toy disappeared entirely, and I cried out, arching my back, my breasts bouncing as I squeezed my legs together, desperate for release. The world spun, colors blurred, and my senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the experience. As the first wave of pleasure washed over me, I lost control, letting out a primal scream, a release of all the pent-up desire, the unspoken longing.

I continued to writhe, my body shaking with the intensity of the orgasm, the release of tension, the sheer pleasure of being completely consumed by my own arousal. The sun beat down on my skin, a warm, comforting pressure, as I lay sprawled across the damp grass, exhausted and exhilarated, the scent of cum and sweat clinging to my skin, a testament to the raw, unbridled pleasure we had just shared.

As you watched, lost in your own fantasy, I smiled, knowing that you had experienced the full measure of my desire, the intoxicating blend of beauty, vulnerability, and pure, unadulterated pleasure. And as the breeze rustled through the leaves, whispering secrets in my ear, I knew that this was just the beginning.

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