Thirsty Tiger

Neon rain pours over Mary Jane’s skin, plastering her thin white crop top to every curve until her stiff nipples poke through like a blatant invitation. She’s on her knees on the rooftop ledge, tongue lolling, drool cascading down her chin while one hand roughly squeezes her heavy breast and the other braces against the railing. Those hungry green eyes lock on you, promising she’ll drain you dry the second you swing close enough to get caught in her web.