Next, she would deliberately grab my blanket, and then, regardless of whether I had work the next day, she would pick a fight with me.
But this time, the argument didn't come.
Instead, I felt her embrace me from behind, and from the touch on my legs, I could tell she was wearing stockings.
Men did love stockings. I used to ask her to wear them for me cautiously.
However, she scolded me, calling me a pervert with twisted tastes.
Since then, I had given up on the stockings. But when Matt returned, during one dinner, he casually mentioned, "Ariana, your legs look so good; it's a shame you don't wear stockings."
That night, Ariana went on a stocking shopping spree online.
Yet, she never wore them for me.
But now, what had gotten into her?
"Robert, it's time for your dues. I'm wearing your favorite white stockings, and I've styled my hair in twin tails."
Her voice echoed behind me, her lips brushing against my shoulder.
In the past, I would have been thrilled by this attention, but now, it felt eerie.
I thought, "Was the campsite haunted, and she was possessed by a ghost?"
I could only say, "I have an important work presentation at the board meeting tomorrow. It's late, let's sleep."