Corset and Cash: My 97 Euro Dessous Tease

The sound of his breath catches as he sees me. I’m standing there, slightly turned away, holding these damn flowers like they’re some kind of prop. But really, it’s the corset that’s the star. Black, lacy, and barely holding my tits in place. I can feel his eyes on me, tracing every curve, every inch of skin peeking through the mesh. And then he says it. ‘Wow, I’d rip that right off you.’ I almost laugh. Almost. But I just smile, slow and sweet. ‘I paid 97 euros for this, you better enjoy the view.’ And he does. For a while, at least.

How Long Can He Last?

But then, the flowers. They’re a distraction, really. Light pink and green, they’re supposed to be romantic or something. But right now, they’re just in the way. I shift, letting the corset ride up a bit more, giving him a better view. His eyes widen, and I know he’s imagining it all. The feel of the lace, the taste of my skin. And I let him. For now. But I’m the one in control here. Always. I’m the one who decides when he gets to touch, to taste. And right now, he’s just looking. And that’s enough. For now.