ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The city lights blurred beyond the rain-streaked window, casting a soft, golden haze across the room. His gaze was a physical warmth that traveled over my skin, leaving a trail of quiet anticipation. He stepped closer, the space between us humming with unspoken words, and his fingers traced a feather-light path from my wrist to my shoulder. A soft sigh escaped my lips as I leaned into his touch, my own hands finding the solid strength of his back. His forehead gently rested against mine, our shared breaths mingling in the intimate silence. I could taste the faint, sweet hint of wine on his lips as they finally brushed against mine in a tender, searching kiss. Every nerve ending awoke, singing a silent chorus that resonated deep within my soul. The world narrowed to this single point of connection, a sanctuary of feeling and sensation. My fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as if he were a dream I might lose. In that suspended moment, I felt utterly known, completely cherished, and desperately, wonderfully alive.
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