Between

Sveta looks great in panties. I mean, yes, obviously, but she really does. I love her naked and sweaty, but at the beginning of the session, or the evening, or whatever, seeing her giggling and blushing with her pretty pink pussy covered only by a scrap of cotton... priceless.

I love the smell of her too. I can't say that about all pussies; some of them are more or less appealing, really, though very few are off-putting. Basically, a clean cunt is nice, but sometimes the pheromones are just right and it smells ready and waiting. And Sveta smells ready and waiting every single second of her life.

So I grab her ass and press my face between her thighs and just feel the separation, that tease of fabric between us. She giggles sometimes, when I do that, and she's giggling now. Maybe I should just rip those panties off and devour her. Why tease? But sometimes, a tease makes the fulfillment all the sweeter.

When she's ready, really ready, not just smelling it but feeling it, and when she's wearing the right pair of panties, sheer to begin with, her juices flow out and you can see through the fabric. I can see the swell of her pubis, the faint dimple just below her clit, but she's held together, not showing off her inner pink, until I push her playfully back onto the bed and spread her legs a little, spreading her mound until I can see the outline of rosy labia. Sometimes she's got a little decoration of hair above, but not during the summer, when it might show under a bikini.

She smells slightly salty, like really fresh fish, though it's not fishy. She smells slightly sweet too, a little nutty, like a honey-roasted nut maybe, if honey-roasted nuts smelled like a willing and ready woman. I don't know. She smells like Sveta, hot and wet and begging for it. And again, maybe I'll just pull aside that scrap of cotton and thrust my hips against hers, burying a strapon in her until she begs for mercy. But sometimes I don't have a dildo handy, or I don't feel like fucking her hard.

Instead, I bring my pelvis toward hers, my pussy bare, hers still covered. They call it "scissoring" for a reason; our legs spread and meeting like two pairs of scissors meeting , but that's such a silly term for it, because who uses two pairs of scissors? I run my dripping pussy down the inside of her thigh, feeling each bump of her flesh, until I'm separated from her spread cunt by a wet cotton crotch, the ribbing at the edges of the fabric tantalizing me, spreading me too, until our juices mingle on the fabric.

"Harder," she gasps, and I pull back slightly, then run my pelvis hard into hers, our pubic mounds pulsing with the impact, lips spread, my hands on her upper thigh, my legs wrapped around her belly. And again, the dull pain of stimulation giving way to a wave of pleasure as we grind our pussies together. I don't back up again. We've trapped the wet cotton between us and we're not letting go. The friction of the fabric and the slow rotation of hips is all we need.

I cum first, because that's just the way of things. By this point our juices have lubricated us to the point that it's almost like the cotton isn't there. I can feel the cheeks of her ass against my inner thigh, twitching, tensing, begging. As I cum, I press harder, moaning, then relaxing, feeling her thigh against my tailbone.

"Harder. Please."

I pull back and this time run her covered cunt down my thighbone, pulling her into my pubis with a shock, then again, again, until she's gasping with every motion and I know she's close. I press our cunts together again, grinding hard, wet, juices flowing, until she softly moans, "Yessssssss!" and I feel the tension release against me, the flow, the shudder, the shiver and the shake. And then I finally pull aside the cotton barrier and press our warmth together, feeling her release, lying back and sighing.