Addicted2Girls
Kit Mercer, Laney Grey Pic(s)
The air itself seemed to shimmer with the heat of their locked gazes, a silent challenge passing between youth’s lithe grace and experience’s smoldering confidence. Her fingers, delicate and curious as a butterfly’s touch, traced the faint lines that mapped a lifetime of passion across the other’s skin, each one a story she yearned to read. In response, a hand, strong and knowing, cupped the smooth curve of a youthful jaw, the thumb stroking a slow, possessive rhythm that promised both tenderness and dominance. A sharp, sweet intake of breath was the only sound as their bodies finally aligned, the soft, yielding pla of one meeting the hardened, elegant angles of the other. The scent of night-blooming jasmine, wild and intoxicating, mingled with the deeper, muskier perfume of pure, unadulterated desire that rose from their heated skin. Whispers, husky and fragmented, were lost agat the damp hollow of a throat as mouths explored with a hunger that was both patient and desperate. The world narrowed to the slide of silk agat bare flesh, to the electric sensation of a nail lightly scraping a sensitive spine, eliciting a shudder that was more plea than protest. Every movement was a conversation, a push and pull of innocence awakening to its own power and wisdom reveling in its rediscovered vigor. In that suspended moment, the dichotomy melted away, leaving only the raw, beautiful truth of two souls meeting on the precipice of ecstasy.
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