In The Melting

There, in the soft light, is the mystery.

Her fullness barely hidden in the image of her exposed body, the softness of warm skin exuding the power of precious woman.

She is the visage of the vision quest, with light radiating on touchable curves and tender round ass, the silence screaming ¡§Go and taste.¡¨

Her long powerful legs able to wrap ¡K to pull in ¡K to squeeze, engendering pleasure and passion¡¦s fulfillment.

Yes, and there, in the darkened merge is the hint of all that drives a man to rise from his apathy and move with the rhythm of the ancients, to join in the deep surges of times past.

The sweet scent of her moistness fills the room. And while he convinces himself of his own strength to overtake her, alas ¡K she holds the power of the dance. His only capacity is to give measure to fullness, bringing what she wants ¡K knows ¡K draws forth.

There, in the folds of pulsing mound, her womanhood gives way: filled with anticipation, lips parting for mutual pleasure, she welcomes the intruder now erect and seeking safe passage.

Rising and falling, the melting bodies sound out the erotic flight. His mountain bulges as her breasts heave and nipples fill.

The inner current¡¦s deep burn pushes through tissue as pleasure gives voice to its waves, and the meltdown banishes disguise.