Adrei didn't hesitate for a beat as she kneaded, crawled, coiled, sunk, pulled, and circled the pillow. Demond leaned into her touch as her hat fell, her white-haired back an arcing bowstring that never stopped backwards for the intruder, each inch of the fabric an unbearable barrier that seperated her peeking cherries and her lover's warmth, yet the clothed shaping and reshaping in the middle of an alleyway brew a cauldron of absolute embarrassment and excitement, her caverns telling the tales of raggard edges from rainfalls, each tickly fibre coursing its own pulse against a smaller fabric.
"Adrei...Adrei..."
