Drip-Dry

She notices their fast stride easing to a meandering gait once they spy her up high on the small balcony. Even though she continues to busy herself taking no obvious interest, she can not help but smile slyly at the flirtatious laces and gauzes of ivory and blushing pink, at the seductive silks and satins of ebony and midnight black which have caught their attentions so effortlessly.

With the suspender belts and stockings, corsets, panties and brassieres dripping their perfect diamond droplets in the glittering sun, her mind drifts to other men, to another man, to the man whose erotic desires are fuelled by these very garments, to the man whose eyes have lingered upon the lines drawn tight across her reclining body, to the man whose digits have fingered the fine mesh then pulled the gusset aside to sink his hard naked cock into her voracious sex, to the man whose hands possess her hips while he fucks her with deep thrusting strokes that cause her to cry out, to call out his name over and again.

And as she ponders the man and his alluring flesh, the light breeze in her hair, the autumnal sun warming her skin, her throbbing cunt drips and floods and soaks yet another lacy wonder with the precious glisten of her pervasive lust.