Slender fingers of lustrous rubber trace a lazy path across your cheeks.

They caress your face, pushing your hair behind your ear.



Lingering.



They draw lazy circles,

across the peaks,

through the valleys.





A pinch.





A slight tug.





A kiss.








Two fingers continue on, drawing a meandering line underneath your chin.

Oily rubber glides against skin.




Chills manifest,

in tiny bumps across your body.







A brush of the nipple.







The hand of rubber finds its way down your navel,



around your hips,



between your legs.





Warm rubber greets you against your clit.





It explores your sex,


slowly...




surely.




Surely,

you knew this was coming.






Fingers part your folds,



and your lips part in kind.








Smooth latex glides easily.



As a flower, fingers bloom within you.