ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The city slept under a velvet sky, its distant lights like scattered diamonds, while in our quiet room, the only sound was the soft cadence of our breathing. He stood behind me, his warmth a solid, comforting presence against my back, his hands resting gently on my shoulders. Slowly, his fingers began to trace a path down my arms, a whisper of a touch that sent shivers cascading over my skin. I leaned into him, my head tilting back as a sigh escaped my lips, feeling the steady, strong rhythm of his heart against my spine. His breath was warm on my neck, a soft caress that made my pulse flutter like a captured bird. Every movement was a silent question, and my yielding was the only answer he needed, a wordless conversation of trust and longing. The air grew thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and the intoxicating electricity of our shared anticipation. I could feel the tension in his frame, a coiled spring of restrained desire that mirrored the ache blossoming deep within me. In that suspended moment, the entire world narrowed to the map his touch was drawing across my skin, a cartography of pure, undiluted feeling. This was not just an embrace; it was an awakening, a sultry surprise that unraveled me, leaving me trembling and utterly new.
Comments
Post a Comment