âMmm⊠you like this soft mohair knit, donât you? Itâs so warm⊠so thick⊠and it feels even better when I press it against you.â
âKeep that camera steady, baby. I want you to capture all of this. Every soft, fuzzy inch.â
She stands there in the snow, her breath fogging the air, her body wrapped only in a thick, oversized mohair turtleneck sweater that clings to her curves like a lover. Bright blue fishnets shimmer against her bare legs, the cold biting her skin while the mohair keeps her warmâand aching.
âDo you like watching your Mistress out here? Mmm⊠nothing but this big, soft sweater and these little blue tights. Youâre hard already, arenât you? I bet you are. Filming me like a good little pet.â
She runs her mohair-gloved hands slowly down her sides, pressing the sweater tight against her body, letting the deep fuzzy fibers mold to her breasts, her hips, her thighs. Her nipples are clearly outlined beneath the knit, stiff from the coldâor maybe from the thought of what comes next.
âYou know where weâre going after this, donât you? Back to the room. Back to the fire. Back to the ropes. Iâve got a whole pile of sweaters just waiting to bind you. Arms wrapped, legs stretched⊠mouth covered in soft fuzzy bliss. Iâm going to tie you down in mohair, tease you, ride youâwhile your face is buried in Mommyâs wet, messy cunt.â
She steps closer to the camera now, her breath hitting the lens, her voice a low, delicious purr.
âYou love it when I get like this. When I get all bundled up and mean. Iâm soaked under this sweater, and youâre going to lick every drop until you canât breathe. Then Iâll wrap you in my long mohair coat, make you mine, and leave you dripping and shaking under the weight of it.â
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