Marcus’s gaze was hesitant, flickering between my face and the rest of me, like he was afraid of what might happen if he lingered too long. His hands clenched at his sides, and I could practically feel the tension radiating off him.

I leaned in a little closer and gave him a smile that I hoped was warm and friendly. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “You don’t have to feel bad.”

His eyes darted to mine, wide and uncertain. “I—I shouldn’t…” His words faltered, but he didn’t look away this time.

“You’re so sweet, Marcus,” I said, my voice softer now. “Always trying to do the right thing. But you’re not doing anything wrong. I want you to look.”

Marcus’s cheeks reddened, and I felt a rush of adrenaline. I didn’t know where my new confidence was coming from, but it felt good—empowering, even. I straightened up, letting my hands trail over the lace at my hips, smoothing it as if adjusting the fit. His gaze followed the movement, and this time, he didn’t look away.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, so quietly I almost didn’t hear him.

The sincerity in his voice made my heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just a compliment—it was like he couldn’t keep it in any longer. I felt a warmth spread through me, mingling with the thrill of being seen like this, really seen, by someone who appreciated every detail.

“Thank you,” I said, smiling softly. “That means a lot.”

He nodded, swallowing hard, his hands still clenched. I could tell he was holding himself back, every muscle in his body taut with restraint. It was sweet, but it also made me want to see just how far I could push him.

I reached out, my fingers brushing lightly against his arm. “Do you want to touch it?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes snapped to mine, panic and longing warring in his expression. “I—I don’t think—”

“It’s okay,” I said, cutting him off gently. “I trust you. Just here.” I took his hand and guided it to the strap of the suspender at my hip, letting his fingers rest there. His touch was tentative, barely there, but it sent a shiver through me.

“You’re shaking,” I teased, my voice soft but playful. “Am I really that scary?”

He laughed nervously, a sound that was more breath than anything else. “You’re just…I’ve never seen anyone look like this. Like you.”

I felt my cheeks flush. “You’re sweet,” I said again, and this time it wasn’t teasing. “I’m glad it’s you.”

His eyes met mine, and something in his expression shifted. The panic was still there, but it was mingled with something bolder, something braver. His fingers tightened slightly on the strap, just enough to let me know he was still present, still with me.

“You’re really okay with this?” he asked, his voice steadier now.

I nodded. “I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

He hesitated for a moment longer, and then his hand moved, tracing the edge of the lace where it met my skin. His touch was featherlight, almost reverent, like he was afraid I might shatter if he wasn’t careful. It sent a thrill through me, a mix of nerves and excitement.

“Is this…okay?” he asked, his eyes searching mine as he ran his fingers along the lace again, gently moving toward my inner thigh, where my pussy was waiting, visible through the sheer fabric.

“It’s perfect,” I murmured, and I meant it. There was something intoxicating about the way he touched me—so careful, so deliberate. It wasn’t just lust; it was appreciation, like he was savoring every moment.

His fingers trailed up to the edge of my bra, brushing against the curve of my breast, I felt my heartbeat quicken. I could see the way his eyes followed the movement, the way his lips parted slightly as if he were holding back a sigh.

“Marcus,” I said softly. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m not going to break. Touch me here…”

I hooked my fingers under the lace of my bra, exposing my large, pale breasts to him, my nipples hard and craving the attention.

He nodded, and I could see the battle playing out in his mind. But then, slowly, he moved his fingers across my nipples, and I felt a rush of pleasure flow through me. It felt so good to be touched like that, so gently and caring…

“I don’t want to mess this up,” Marcus said, his voice shaking.

“You’re not,” I promised, and before he could second-guess himself, I closed the distance between us and pressed myself into him, my naked breasts squishing against his chest, the mound of my pussy feeling something hard between his legs.

I heard him sigh, and felt the hardness between his legs throb.

We stayed like this for a moment and then I pulled away, looking up at him with innocent eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, brushing a strand of hair out of his face.

He nodded.

“Good,” I said. “Then you won’t mind if I do this?”

I turned around, presenting my big round ass to him, bending until I touched my toes.

“Uh…Sarah…” His voice was strained, like he was fighting against every instinct he had.

“Grab my hips,” I said. Not a request anymore, a command.

I heard him suck in a shaky breath behind me. For a moment, he didn’t move. I could almost feel his hesitation, the war going on inside him. “Is this okay? Can I do this without crossing a line?” I knew what he was thinking—it was written all over him, in the way his hands hovered in midair, trembling slightly.

“Marcus,” I said softly, glancing back at him over my shoulder. “I told you—it’s okay. I trust you.”

That seemed to break whatever was holding him back. Tentatively, gently, delicately, his hands came to rest on my hips. His touch was light, hesitant, like he was afraid of holding too tightly. But I could feel the way his fingertips gripped me just a little harder than he probably intended, as though he couldn’t help himself.

“Good boy,” I said, feeling him through the sheer fabric of my panties.

Then, slowly, I began to grind…