Delicate Emotions in tight black jeans

“tight black jeans” is morning light through lace curtains. She wakes tangled in white sheets, hair wild, skin warm. The first thing “tight black jeans” shows is her hand slipping beneath cotton panties already soaked from dreams. Lazy circles turn urgent; fabric darkens under her touch. She kicks the sheet away, knees falling open, giving “tight black jeans” an unobstructed view of fingers plunging in and out, thumb relentless on her clit. Sunbeams dance across trembling thighs. In “tight black jeans”, she comes quietly at first—then louder, back bowing off the mattress, crying “tight black jeans” like a prayer into the empty room as pulses milk her fingers dry.