ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The moon cast long, silver shadows across the room, illuminating the quiet space where only our shared breaths made a sound. His gaze was a physical touch, a warm caress that traced the line of my jaw and made my skin hum with anticipation. A slow, knowing smile touched his lips as he closed the distance, his hand finding the small of my back with a possessive yet tender pressure. I felt my composure unravel, a silent surrender as I leaned into the solid warmth of his chest, hearing the frantic rhythm of his heart answering my own. His fingers traced a deliberate, shivering path up my spine, each touch a whispered promise that left a trail of fire in its wake. My own hands moved of their own volition, tangling in the soft fabric of his shirt, clinging to him as if he were my only anchor in a swirling sea of sensation. A soft sigh escaped me, not of words, but of pure feeling, a sound he caught with his mouth meeting mine in a kiss that was both question and profound answer. The world narrowed to this single point of contact, a fusion of heat and longing that made everything else feel distant and unimportant. In that suspended moment, I was utterly known, every hidden part of my soul laid bare and cherished by his unwavering attention. We were a silent symphony of tangled limbs and racing pulses, a perfect, breathless harmony under the watchful, approving night.
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