Ann_mill
The moon cast long, silver shadows across the room, illuminating the graceful curve of her back as she arched in silent invitation. My hands traced the delicate landscape of her spine, feeling a shiver of anticipation ripple through her skin. Lowering my head, I let my tongue begin a slow, devoted journey, exploring every contour with a worshipper’s reverence. Her soft sighs were a melody that guided my movements, a language of pure sensation we understood perfectly. I lost all track of time in that sacred space, my world narrowing to the taste of her skin and the sound of her breath catching. We moved together in a fluid dance, shifting through a series of intimate arrangements, each one deepening our connection. My lips found new places to gently suckle, leaving invisible marks of my adoration upon her. Her fingers tangled in my hair, not guiding but simply holding on, a anchor in our shared sea of feeling. A profound vulnerability enveloped us, stripping away every pretense until only raw, trembling emotion remained. In that quiet, moon-drenched sanctuary, we were not two people, but one single, beating heart.
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