Roxanne sat there on the forest floor, her back against the rough bark of an old tree, breathing hard in short, ragged gasps.
Her legs were spread wide apart in a vulnerable, almost obscene position—knees bent and parted as Luke had instructed—exposing the smooth, trembling expanse of her inner thighs to the cool forest air. Though she could not care less about it as of now.
The hem of her dress was bunched up high around her waist, revealing the delicate black fabric of her thin panties clinging tightly to her pussy.
The sheer material left little to the imagination, the outline of her soft folds clearly visible, a faint dampness already beginning to darken the cloth from her panicked sweat and the rising heat in her body.
Just inches from the edge of those black panties, on the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, were the two angry crimson puncture marks from the snakebite.
