Open your jeans

As the group settled into the new rules, Miranda leaned in close to you, her breath warm against your ear. "The spirits you called," she whispered, her voice tinged with playful reproach.

Before you could fully grasp her words, you felt her hand brush against you, the touch light and seemingly accidental. Yet the effect was immediate and undeniable, sending a jolt through you. Your earlier excitement had already left you uncomfortably aware of how tight your jeans had become, and Miranda's touch only intensified that sensation.

A shiver ran down your spine, a mix of surprise and arousal coursing through you. You glanced at Miranda, her expression a blend of mischief and curiosity. There was a knowing glint in her eyes, as if she was fully aware of the effect she had on you.

As Miranda's fingers deftly unfastened the button of your jeans, you felt a rush of anticipation mixed with nervousness. The casual, almost playful way she moved made it seem like an accident when her hand brushed against your balls, but the electric shock of the touch told a different story.

Your breath hitched slightly, and you fought to keep your composure. You glanced around the room, hoping no one had noticed your reaction.

Miranda's eyes met yours briefly, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. She seemed to relish the effect she was having on you, her fingers lingering for a fraction of a second longer than necessary before pulling away.

Before she unzipped your jeans, Miranda's fingers traced a slow, deliberate path along the zipper, as if mapping out the way. The sensation sent a shiver through you, your body responding instinctively to her touch. Your pulse quickened, the air between you charged with an electric intensity. Miranda's eyes held yours, a knowing glint in her gaze that made it clear she was fully aware of the effect she was having on you.

You struggled to maintain your composure, acutely aware of the others around you, engaged in the game. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, Miranda began to pull down the zipper. The sound of it cutting through the quiet room felt impossibly loud, each click heightening your awareness of her touch and the tantalizing possibilities that lay ahead.

Miranda's fingers slipped inside your jeans from both sides, her knuckles brushing against your skin. The contact was electric, each touch sending a jolt through you. She began to pull your jeans down in slow motion, only a centimeter at a time. Every small movement seemed to stretch out in time, the anticipation building with each agonizing second.

You were acutely aware of the ten curious eyes fixed on you, the entire room watching with bated breath. It was impossible to hide your arousal, the bulge in your underwear painfully obvious. Miranda's deliberate pace only heightened the tension, the air thick with a mix of excitement and nervous energy.

With each inch she revealed, the fabric of your jeans and underwear became tighter against your erection, making it increasingly clear to everyone just how turned on you were. Miranda's touch was both torturous and exhilarating, each movement measured and intentional.

Finally, as she reached the top edge of your boxers, she paused for a moment, her eyes meeting yours with a teasing glint.