Girls That Finish The Job
Girls That Finish The Job Pic(s)
Steam began to curl in the air, a soft, warm fog that clung to our skin as the water cascaded over our shoulders. His hands found the gentle curve of my waist, his touch both a question and an answer in the humid silence. I leaned into him, my back against his chest, feeling the steady, frantic rhythm of his heart echoing my own. Our breaths became a shared language, quickening as his lips traced a slow, tender path along the slope of my neck. A shiver, unrelated to the heat of the water, danced down my spine, and my fingers tightened their hold on his arm. The world outside this tiny, clouded sanctuary ceased to exist, its noises drowned by the drumming spray and our soft, yearning sighs. Every caress was a whispered promise, every shift of our bodies a step toward a precipice we longed to fall from together. My head fell back against him, eyes closed, as a profound, trembling warmth began to pool deep within me, spreading like liquid sunlight. A soft, helpless sound escaped my lips, the final surrender to the wave of sensation that shattered all thought. In its wake, we simply stood, entwined and breathless, holding onto the quiet, echoing bliss. The water washed over us, rinsing away everything but the lingering, tender aftershock of our connection.
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