Everyday, I dress for you.
When I pull these panties up my legs, carefully chosen to elicit reaction, I’m already thinking of them sliding back down.
Imagining your fingers tensing, relaxing, torn between the giggle gasp satisfaction of a violent rending and the sultry contralto sigh that accompanies a journey prolonged, the mere act of fabric moving across flesh inciting a riot within the blood. Standing still, while you advance my pleasure through the obvious claiming of your own.
With a sigh, I zip and button my pants, anticipating a future perfect that contains zippers, panties and you, going down.