[Musician’s fingers, indeed. Quite deft ones, too, though their dexterity cannot be fully appreciated as they are — sensation and pressure stifled by the extra layer of fabric. His motions are slow, perhaps purposefully torturous, and though he had promised himself a degree of patience, Sholmes’ mind is already weighing other options at her behest. The tautness of her tail around his wrist seems to cinch the idea; and while how very wonderful it would be to grind against her again, the detective chooses instead to rise to his feet, unbidden.
The height difference between them makes itself known again. But it is easier, this way, to slip his hand down the waist of her trousers, beneath any undergarments, and seek both the warmth and wetness of her cunt with questing fingers.]
no subject
The height difference between them makes itself known again. But it is easier, this way, to slip his hand down the waist of her trousers, beneath any undergarments, and seek both the warmth and wetness of her cunt with questing fingers.]
How is this for verification, Ms Vaux?