Lingerie on or off, I just want them sucked

She's got one strap sliding off her shoulder, the sheer fabric barely containing what's underneath — full, heavy, demanding your attention before you've even decided what you want.

You reach out and cup the weight of her through the thin material, feeling her breath catch. The lace is warm from her skin. She tilts forward slightly, an unspoken instruction you understand immediately.

Your mouth closes over her, fabric and all — the texture of the lace against your tongue, the firm softness beneath it. She grips the back of your head and keeps you there.