Bored Wife Grinds Her Fingers Against Covered Pussy

She knows exactly what she's doing to you. Her hands slide over that black lace, pulling it taut over her curves. The leather straps dig into her thighs, and your breath catches as she adjusts them, slowly, deliberately. The fabric clings to her, and you can see the shape of her beneath, the swell of her hips and the roundness of her ass.

Her fingers brush against herself, pressing gently through the lace. You can feel your pulse quickening as she rubs against her thigh, the fabric bunching up under her hand. She's teasing herself, and you can't help but be drawn in. Your hand moves on its own, stroking slowly as you watch her. The sound of her breathing is all you can hear, the soft rustle of the lace as she moves.

She's edging closer, her movements becoming more urgent. You can feel your own ache building, your rhythm quickening. And then, just as suddenly as it began, it's over. She freezes, her hands still on her hips, and you're left panting, wanting more. What would happen if she slipped that lace aside?