My Slutty Wife Kneels for Me Outside at Night

She knows exactly what she's doing to you. Her hand drifts down, nails glinting, her tattoo a dark blur on her wrist. She rests it on the back of his head, her fingers curled gently. His face is hidden, but his body tells the story: tense, eager, his mouth inches from her.

His underwear strains, the blue lettering stark against his dark skin. Her green top rides up, exposing a sliver of smooth flesh. The air is heavy with anticipation, every sound magnified in the stillness. You can feel your pulse pounding, your hand twitching with the urge to touch. Your breath catches in your throat as you imagine her warmth, her wetness.

She edges closer, her breath catching in her throat. His mouth parts, his tongue darting out to taste her. You feel your own ache growing, your rhythm quickening. How long will you last? The heat builds, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. Your hand moves of its own accord, stroking slowly. Your eyes are glued to the screen, drinking in every detail. The darkness outside only heightens the intimacy, the secrecy of the moment. And then...