Satin unlocked in him something buried deep inside. The silky touch of that wondrous material made his skin sing and his nerves burn with delightful yearning.
He still remembered the first time he felt it. He was a teenager, rummaging through his parents' things in that small window between when he got home from school and when they got home from work. He never knew what kind of treasures he'd unearth in their chest of drawers. Once he found a Polaroid picture of a naked woman, a healthy bush between her legs, her toes pointed skyward, her back arched painfully.
He was just learning the mysteries of women when his hand swept across the soft, slick fabric of his mother's slip. He stopped there, his fingers caressing, a crackle of electricity running through him, grounding him to the spot. From that moment he'd never be the same.
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