I shouldn’t be doing this… but I can’t help it. Sitting, warm liquid spreading over my thighs, soaking through my little jean shorts, I let it happen—slow, deliberate, the fabric clinging to me, darker where it’s drenched. The relief, the heat, the way it feels against my skin—it’s too much. I strip them off, tossing them aside, but my panties stay on, still wet, still sticking to me in the best way. My fingers find their way between my legs, rubbing slow and needy, teasing myself right on the edge of my own mess… and I don’t stop until I’m shaking.