When Silk and Leather War in Silence

Album NO.670

Description

You enter the hotel room. And you see it - the black leather chair, with provocative curves born for a single purpose. And she is sitting on it. Perhaps she just thinks it's a strange lounge chair. But as she leans back, her baby pink silk pants are caught, stretched, and tortured by the black leather surface. It mercilessly arches to display her round buttocks, gleaming under the light. You can almost hear the soft hiss, the friction of the two surfaces tormenting each other. The hem of her brocade ao dai hangs loosely, revealing one bare thigh, a precious moment of calm in the silk storm. Your mind screams; you just want to replace that chair. To feel the exact pressure of those silk buttocks, their slipperiness against your own skin. She is oblivious. And that very obliviousness is the sweetest poison.