The dim light of the candle drew her silhouette with an almost unreal delicacy, and for a moment I thought that my eyes were not made for something so beautiful.
She was not a noisy or calculated beauty, she was an honest beauty.
My fingers and eyes meet, I went over her tactfully, like someone who appreciates the most beautiful painting.
My fingers go down her breasts, I stop at one of her n*****s and I felt my fingers tremble. That perfect little softness that becomes hard as I stimulate them.
The palm of my hand covers her chest and I press it gently, in a light massage.
She watches what I do, bites her lip, does nothing.
I take her waist, pull her closer, and bow to her, letting my face take on the height of her chest.
I inhale her scent, the scent of her skin. That smell of her
