ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The fading sun cast long, amber shadows across the quiet room, painting your skin in hues of gold and dusk. I watched the gentle rise and fall of your chest, a silent rhythm that echoed the quiet thunder of my own heart. Your fingers, feather-light, traced a path from my wrist to my elbow, leaving a trail of shimmering warmth in their wake. A soft sigh escaped your lips, a sound more intimate than any confession, and you leaned your forehead against mine. In that suspended moment, the world outside ceased to exist, its noises fading into a distant, irrelevant hum. I could feel the trust in your touch, a vulnerable and beautiful offering that made my breath catch. Your eyes, dark pools of unspoken longing, held mine, reflecting a shared, trembling hope. The scent of rain on dry earth drifted through the open window, mingling with the faint, familiar fragrance of your skin. Every nerve in my body felt alive, humming with a profound and aching tenderness for the soul before me. This was not an end, but a delicate, breathtaking beginning, a door to a universe of feeling I had only just found the courage to unlock.
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