Soaking My Tan Pants While Rubbing My Wet Crotch

She knows exactly what she's doing to you. Her hand moves so slowly over her crotch, the fabric of her tan pants clinging to her wetness. With each gentle press, her lips part a little more, and the moans escape, low and throaty. Your hand twitches with the urge to replace hers, to feel the heat and dampness for yourself. Her eyes are closed, but you can almost see the pleasure building behind her lids.

Her legs lift, straight up toward the ceiling, and she keeps rubbing, the motion steady and deliberate. The wet spot on her pants grows, a dark stain spreading. You can almost smell the musk of her arousal, feel the warmth emanating from her body. Your pulse quickens, your breath catching in your throat as you watch her tease herself, and you by extension. The ache builds, the tension coiling tighter with each passing moment.

As she lowers her legs back down, her hand never stops its gentle caress. The wet spot is unmistakable now, a clear sign of how turned on she is. Your own rhythm quickens, your hand moving over your hard length in time with her strokes. You're edging closer, the pleasure building to a crescendo. But just as it's about to tip over, she stops, leaving you hanging, desperate for more. The only way to find out what happens next is to press play...