You can’t look away, and I love that. My tight, shiny gold dress and my perfectly round tits are inches from your face, daring you not to stare. The pull is magnetic, and every second your resolve melts.
Your hand moves before your brain, stroking to the obsession I create. Keep staring. Keep stroking. Give whatever it takes to honor these tits, surrender what you need to, and watch how easily you become mine. Stare, stroke, sacrifice.