The voice, like a warm, wet tongue in her ear, “What are you wearing?”
She reddened, “Y-you have the wrong number.”
“Then why are you…wet?”
Sinking into the pile of pillows propped behind her, knees raised and parted.
Easy access for fingers to tease the white-hot flame of desire.
She simply adored those fine, plump orbs –
Skin drawn taught over fleshy meat, bursting with juice.
What a lovely shade of blue.