The thin fabric of my dress is barely a barrier for my hardening nipples, which ache with every brush of my chest against his. My legs want to twine around him, not step neatly in time with him. In fact, every part of me screams to close the last inches between us, to feel his mouth on mine, to tear away civility and give in to the mess of need clawing at my insides. girl calm yourself, it’s just a dance
— Mar 20, 2026 04:00PM
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