I stand over you, wearing a short skirt, long sleeve shirt, and my cross necklace. Even with the fishnet tights and short hemline I feel conservative and overdressed. I run my hands up my thighs, past my waistline, and up to my shirt which I raise to expose my trembling chest. I want you to see my body, to experience it. Slowly, with shaking hands I unbutton my shirt. I want you to savor the moment, but I long for the touch of your skin on mine. I move my hands up to my chest and squeeze my tits hard, imagining your firm grip—the thought leaves me breathless. I run my fingertips across my collarbone as I pull my shirt back, and I feel the necklace. I can’t help but smile as I think of the sin we are about to commit. I lift up my skirt and turn around, shaking my fat ass. The fishnets gently caress my skin as I move, and I think of your hands on my thick thighs, my round booty… I want you to slap it, squeeze it, leaving marks for me to remember this moment later. Turning to face you again, I finally pull my shirt off of my shoulders and toss it aside. When I see the satisfaction and admiration in your eyes, I do the same with my skirt. My bodysuit, however, is for you to take off. The cross rests between my big tits, and my skin burns with the thought of god watching us now—I turn my necklace around and vow to give him a show. As my heartbeat quickens my desire becomes impossible to hold back. I don’t want to just show you my body, I want more.