The aurora black silk stockings were fiercely torn open from the middle.
The tear, once pulled, splits all the way to the base of the thighs, the edges of the shiny black stockings curling up, the exposed skin directly meeting every thrust. The sofa is pushed forward, and she can only grip the backrest tightly, her hips forced higher so that the torn stockings offer no obstruction at all.
The ripped opening grows larger and larger, the stockings' sheen still there, yet unable to cover anything. Burying her voice in the pillow, her body keeps pushing back.
Finally, the stockings hang completely on her legs, torn to shreds