They glide up my legs like a whispered promise. The fabric clings to my skin — tight, soft, warm from being worn. Beneath my dress, they stretch with every step, wrapping around my thighs, holding my heat, my scent… just for you. I wear them for hours, savoring how they move with me, how they catch every breath, every slow sway of my hips — knowing you’d want to breathe them in, to lose yourself in the scent of my skin. They slip a little when I dance. Slide higher when I lay down. And when I slowly peel them off for you… they are no longer just stockings. They become a part of me — a part I want you to taste with every breath you take.