Jeans, off

A thought crossed my mind at 3.58 pm. I was trying to figure out some scribbles my boss wrote down. I’ve got corrections to do and I’ve got a caffeine craving sleepiness to shake off. This thought should not exist here, now at this moment.
I’ve got you naked. It was quite the tussle. You playfully resisted and I gleefully insisted. I get how guys like taking off skirts, but there is something magical about your jeans.
It the way I have to arch your back and grab your ass, and tug, then slide it off, hold your thighs, and gently slide them off to your ankles. Ahh your ankles, pulling the entire length of the jeans off your ankles, revealing you at your most stunning form. Undies cover your sex but it is enough to send me off the edge.
My hands trace your thighs, slowly, your silky legs against my semi rough hands, and the feeling is amazing. I reach the piece of fabric separating me from you, it covers you well. I can see the sense of excitement in you from the centre of that fabric. Your dampness gives you away.
I can smell you now. It’s begging me asking me to take you beyond this moment. My hands are pressing your face into the pillow. I’m so close to you. I’m wondering if there could be anything more fulfilling then this moment, taking off your jeans.

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