ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The sultry evening air clung to our skin like a whispered promise as we stood on the balcony, the city lights blurring into a distant, golden river below. His gaze was a tangible warmth, a soft pressure that made my breath catch in my throat as he slowly traced the line of my collarbone with his thumb. I could feel the steady, strong rhythm of his heart where my hand rested against his chest, a silent drum answering the frantic flutter of my own. A gentle breeze, heavy with the scent of night-blooming jasmine, stirred the loose tendrils of my hair, and he tucked one carefully behind my ear, his fingers lingering. The world seemed to hold its breath, the usual city sounds fading into a hushed, expectant silence that existed only for us. When his lips finally met mine, it was not a demand but a question, a tender exploration that tasted of shared secrets and infinite patience. My hands found their way to the nape of his neck, anchoring me as a wave of profound serenity washed over the initial tremor of temptation. In that suspended moment, every fear and doubt melted away, leaving only the raw, aching beauty of this connection. We were no longer two separate beings, but a single, breathing entity wrapped in the velvet cloak of the night. It was a perfect, fragile eternity, a sanctuary built from a single, soul-searing kiss.
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