First ponder: the way a masculine hand can rest on a feminine thigh, even lower, near the knee, even through clothes. They can be transparently thin as mentioned, or rough as old art-jeans with splatters for dots. These are the kind that aren't flattering at all, too loose in the rear due to gauntass disease and the legs just can't be narrow enough. The thickness of the waist is accentuated, when you've always wanted a waist like a sheet of paper or a drinking straw or something, anything, insignificant. Even so, yes, you're wearing them dirty for days. Still he touches her leg with such a glaringly possessive expression just shining from every blue vein, tiny hair, conspicuous bone. It is obvious in the way the thumb will rub back and forth, tiny motion, maybe in a slightly circular pattern, saying something of I own you, something of I am you, something of I cherish you, something of I'll protect you, something of I want you, now.



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