I cannot help but notice the way the light reflects off of your left knee, or the way your knee cap is defined as you sit on the edge of the bed. I sit to your left, close to you, but far enough to keep a small gap between our thighs. As my eyes focus on that knee, my right arm reaches over, letting the tip of my index finger rest on your skin.

I take a quick glance towards your eyes before turning back down, letting out an inaudible sigh as I move my finger along your shin and up to your knee, touching it only with the tip, reaching the top and moving back down. I begin to lose myself, thinking only about you, about your skin, wondering if your skin is just as soft across your whole body. My finger begins to outline your knee, gently and softly tracing circles around the center. I let the palm of my hand gently rest on your thigh. My palm moves slowly upward. My fingers begin to rest, one by one, on your thigh, then a slow, gentle drag under your skirt, the edge of it catching on my wrist.

In one sudden and quick move, my hand flattens. Still maintaining only a small amount of pressure, I direct my hand's movement towards the inside of your leg. Keeping my hand spread wide to emphasize the size of my hand against your thigh, I can feel a short and quick contraction of your leg as my hand stops halfway up your inner thigh. My eyes break away from your leg and turn towards yours. I'm amazed with their color, studying the shape your eyelids create around them, the way your lashes protrude from the edges, how no one else could make these features as feminine and tender as you do.

I move my gaze down, tracing around your lips with it, looking across your left cheek, along your jawline, towards your ear. Using my eyes to caress your neck, to “feel” every freckle I see as I scan your shoulder.

My lips part slightly at the sight of your shoulder. I lean forward, getting my lips to nearly touch it. A slow, warm, steady breath leaves my mouth.

I breathe over your shoulder, my hand slightly lifting. Using a waving gesture, my hand caresses your thigh. At times my fingers curl, putting pressure on your leg, but always returning to rest flat on your thigh.

I move my lips even closer. I feel a light tickle every time my lips accidentally brush your skin. I look up to see that your eyes have closed. I pull on your leg just enough to spread your thighs apart; just enough to give my hand room to move up between them. Still, all focus is just on your left leg. Slow, soft caresses. Now that your thigh is exposed, I can run my hand from the inside to the front. I feel your front, upper thigh. Firmly squeezing, I notice your skirt is far up enough to expose your panties at the hip. I loosen my lips a bit more and touch them to your shoulder, hoping to direct your body's attention to it.

Now that your attention is focused on your shoulder, I lift my hand slightly, hovering above your skin and not quite touching it. I move it to the inside of your leg, letting you be the one to spread your legs wider... for me. I caress softly over the innermost part of your thigh. A harder breath leaves my mouth as I feel the temperature increase between your thighs as I get further in. Your skin is softest here. It is slightly tacky from heat and sweat. I move further up until one of my knuckles grazes your pussy. A quick touch over your panties makes me think of what is under them, forcing me to tuck in my lower lip and bite it. I keep my hand close your pussy. A calm exterior, but my heart pumps harder, breathing a little faster; a hot flush of nerves spreading as my imagination strays.

I press the back of my hand into you, pushing firmly against the lips, softly feeling and wondering, “are you wet for me? Should I let my hand explore further and slip them under your panties? Will I get to taste you? Do you want me inside you?”

Well, do you?