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That lasted about a minute. It starts slow. Me, stretched out on my softest rug, back arched, daylight pouring in. You're right down at my level, close enough to see every inch. The ruffles on that little skirt barely cover anything, and I know it. I flip them up anyway. Then my hands get involved. White nails sliding over black fishnet. Squeezing. Spreading. Pulling at the netting until it gives, because I'm not patient and I never have been