ManoJob
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The city lights blurred into a river of gold far below our balcony, a distant world that couldn't touch the quiet universe we had created. His hand found the small of my back, a warm, steady pressure that made my breath catch in a soft, shaky sigh. I leaned into him, my forehead resting against his shoulder, feeling the solid, reassuring rhythm of his heartbeat through the thin fabric of his shirt. The warm evening air, scented with night-blooming jasmine, seemed to hum with a palpable energy, wrapping us in a cocoon of suspended time. His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path up my spine, leaving a trail of delicate fire that made my skin tremble in their wake. When his lips finally met mine, it was not a question but a quiet, profound answer to a longing I had carried for so long. Every gentle touch, every shared breath, felt like a whispered secret, a language only our bodies understood. A single, happy tear escaped, tracing a warm path down my cheek as I surrendered completely to the overwhelming tenderness of the moment. In his arms, I was no longer myself but a part of something greater, a perfect, harmonious whole. The heat of the moment was not a fever, but a gentle, radiant sun warming me from the inside out.
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