She eased her head back, helplessly shivering under the warm breath. This was too familiar to her experiences under the full moons, everything in her taut and all too receptive, each minute touch plucking her like so many harp strings.

But then he bunched her leggings' material in that hand and tore. She should have yelped in surprise, maybe voiced in protest. Instead, her thighs tightened and her body squirmed a bit. Maybe she should've asked him to tear off her clothes... this is part of why she -loves- the big fellas, even if it raises the tailoring bill.

It left her completely open, now. With not a shred of cloth on her body and not an ounce of shame in her face, she bit her lip and enjoyed the feel of his freely-roaming hand.

Her eyes flew open with the whimper. Her hand stopped. "Oh- What's wrong...?"