I pulled out my phone and opened the gallery. Jasmine's photos were there, waiting for me. My pulse quickened. There she was, completely exposed in some, pussy glistening, fingers teasing herself. Others showed her legs spread, moaning into the camera. My cock throbbed just from looking at the images.
I slipped my pants down, letting my cock spring free. My hand wrapped around it, stroking slowly at first, my eyes glued to the screen.
And then I noticed it. The laundry basket on the corner. And on the edge, bright and unmistakable—the red panty. Delilah's.
"Oh… Shit."
My imagination ran wild. I was on top of her now, her legs spread wide, and I could feel the heat of her pussy against me. Her breath hitched as my mouth found her neck, kissing, nipping, tasting the sweat and warmth of her skin. I gripped her tits, rolling her nipples between my fingers, watching her shiver beneath me. I could hear her gasping, begging, whispering my name in the most fucked-up, lust-filled way.
