Roccosiffredi
Misha Maver, Lutro, Charlie Dean Pic(s)
The air itself seemed to thicken, charged with the heat of two bodies moving in a synchronized, primal rhythm agat his. A soft, breathy sigh escaped one set of lips near his ear, while another pair of hands, slick with a fine sheen of perspiration, traced a slow, deliberate path down the tense muscles of his back. He was caught in a perfect, overwhelming duality, where every sensation was echoed and amplified. The gentle scrape of fingernails across his chest was mirrored by the press of a knee between his thighs, anchoring him firmly within their shared embrace. The scent of aroused skin and warm, clean linen filled his lungs, a heady perfume that made his head spin with want. He could feel the distinct, yielding softness of one partner beneath his palms, while the firm, demanding pressure of the other moved agat him from behind. A low moan vibrated through him, its source indistinguishable, a shared sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure that belonged to all three. Every nerve ending felt alive, singing with the exquisite torture of being touched and tasted from multiple angles at once. In this blissful captivity, he surrendered completely, lost to the consuming fire of their collective passion.
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