Soaked Panties

"Wow," I breathed, barely audible, my eyes locked on her.

The panties she wore were a whisper of fabric—thin, lacy, and leaving nothing to the imagination. 

The delicate flutter of lace framed the soft mound above her clit, outlining every curve with shameless clarity. No cover, no mystery—just smooth, bare skin staring back at me.

"Huh?" I blinked, caught off guard. Something was missing. No trace of pubic hair. Not a single strand. From the front, Emma's private area was completely exposed, waxed to perfection.

"Did you just get that done?" I asked, tilting my head.

"Oh, uh… yeah," she stammered, her voice tripping over itself. "It's, um…"

She couldn't finish, her cheeks flaring red, but I barely noticed her words. My gaze was glued to that flawless, hairless stretch of skin. 

I swallowed hard, my mind racing—imagining the silkiness under my fingertips, the warmth of it against my lips. It was too much to shake off.