A Faded Rose Lost at the Foot of the Bed

Album NO.571

Description

She is not an angel; she is a faded rose, lost. Your invisible hand doesn't push hers away; you envelop them, turning her defense into a shared possession. Then, your second hand is free to explore, tracing the glossy silk over the mysterious triangle, feeling the moist heat slowly seeping through. The hunger for scent explodes. You bury your face in the silk, inhaling the scent of sweet surrender: pure silk and warm flesh. The defense has been neutralized. Now it's time to execute the sentence. You release your hardness, pressing it directly onto the very spot her hands once guarded. You begin to grind. The slick, cool smoothness of the silk, combined with the moist heat from beneath, creates a perfect simulation of the most forbidden pleasure. You thrust faster, turning the rustle of silk into her own moan, and explode, leaving your mark on the very defense that has been broken, an undeniable conquest.