A command, soft but undeniable.
Three words.
Simple, but loaded with everything you cannot resist.
Older women don’t say it for compliance.
They say it to observe, to see exactly how desire manifests in your body.
Your pulse quickens. Your muscles tense. Your mind races.
You want to obey, yet your instincts scream to ignore her words.
And that is exactly what she wants.
Her eyes lock onto yours, reading every micro-expression:
the flicker of hesitation, the twitch of your fingers, the subtle shift in your stance.
She knows the exact moment your restraint will falter,
the second you feel the urge to move, to touch, to give in—and she savors it.
Every time she repeats the phrase,
every slight intonation in her voice,
it becomes a test of willpower, a game of tension,
a slow unraveling of your composure.
She doesn’t need to touch you to claim control.
Her words are enough.
Her gaze is enough.
The weight of her expectation, the implied consequence of breaking her command—
that is what makes you ache with anticipation.
And when you try to obey,
but can’t fully resist the pull,
she smiles just enough for you to see it,
knowing that desire can be observed, guided, and teased long before the first inch of actual contact.
