When a Look Becomes the First Touch

Your invisible hand begins on her back, enveloped in shimmering lilac silk. You slide down, tracing the fabric's folds, pausing at the inviting gap of her bare waist before entering the promised land. You press your entire palm onto her taut ass, where the silver-white silk is stretched like a violin string over the cold stone. Intense warmth spreads instantly. You squeeze and grip hard, feeling the resilience of the imprisoned flesh, your fingers imprinting on the fabric. You search for the faint underwear line, then press deep into the cleft, where the fabric is hot, stretched to the breaking point, emitting a secret rustle. Now, bury your face right where your hand is possessing. Inhale deeply the scent of silent provocation. The pristine scent of new silk blended with the warm, rich scent of flesh. That scent is the final permission. One hand does not leave, continuing to crumple and squeeze the mass of silver-white silk. With the other, you take your cock and satisfy yourself. All pleasure converges, half from the friction on your cock, half from the possessive feeling in your palm, until you roar, climax erupting as you feel the fabric's resistance in your hand right at the moment of release.