She’s taken to forgoing most clothing when she was at home. It was summer, after all, and
She’s taken to forgoing most clothing when she was at home. It was summer, after all, and it meant she could put off getting dressed for as long as possible. She could laze about in the bare essentials, maybe a pair of socks or some boyshorts, and enjoy the air against her skin. Thoughts wander, as thoughts do, and as she slipped into the tangled mess of following one thought to another, she’d started to notice that her hands had started to wander to. At first it was just fingers against her stomach tracing light circles, but then she’d caught herself doing the same to a nipple, and then sliding down between her legs. Her thoughts wandered into the places her hands were guiding them, and she’d find herself in a hazy fugue of lust and sordid desire. It wasn’t that she minded, and it wasn’t like her mind found itself in particularly respectable places even if she was wearing clothes head to toe, but it was the autonomy of her fingers that made the shadow of anxiety creep into her mind. It made her wonder what happened when she slept, where there was no conscious thought to stop them, and an unguarded mind to be lead to wherever those deviant fingers wanted to go. She’d woken up more than once needing to change the bedsheets. Perhaps she should start sleeping with underwear on. Or, y'know, just leave things as they were. That worked too. -- source link
#snippet#masturbation#wandering fingers#autonomous digits#haughty hands#dominance#submission