The Confession of Tortured Folds

Album NO.683

Description

You observe silently from a distance. She just sits down to rest on the long wooden bench, a perfectly normal action. But that action is a sentence for the white silk she wears. The silk is held, stretched, and tortured by the rough wooden surface. It creates hundreds of tiny folds on her slender back, and turns her buttocks into a perfect terrain, glossy as a pearl under the evening light. Your mind screams. You want to walk over, slide a finger down her spine, feel every rippling wave of silk, then stop at the tautest point on her round buttocks. She continues to gaze into the distance, completely unaware that she has just become an immortal masterpiece in your private world.