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Hazel Heart, Tony Rubino Pic(s)
The air in the room was thick with the scent of warm skin and anticipation, a palpable energy that made every nerve ending hum. Her heart hammered agat her ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the single, overwhelming presence that dominated the space before her. He stood with a quiet confidence, his gaze a physical weight that traced the line of her collarbone, leaving a trail of invisible heat. The sheer magnitude of his arousal was a breathtaking sight, a proud, thick column of flesh that rose from a nest of dark curls, promising a profound and filling pressure. A single bead of moisture glistened at the tip, a tiny, perfect pearl that captured the dim light, and she felt an answering dampness bloom between her own thighs. Her fingers itched to reach out, to trace the prominent ve that mapped his length, to feel the hot, smooth skin stretched taut over unyielding hardness. The silence was broken only by their ragged breathing, a shared rhythm that spoke of a hunger about to be sated. She imagined the initial stretch, the slow, inexorable glide that would steal her breath and redefine her sense of being full. This was the precipice, the electric moment before the plunge into a deep, consuming pleasure.
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