Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The moon cast a soft, silver glow through the window, illuminating Stella Bliss as she moved with a quiet, liquid grace. Her fingers, delicate and warm, traced a slow, meandering path along my arm, leaving a trail of invisible fire in their wake. A whisper of a smile played upon her lips, a silent promise that made my heart stumble over its own rhythm. The air itself seemed to thicken, sweet with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and the faint, intoxicating perfume of her skin. I felt the gentle weight of her head as she rested it against my shoulder, her breath a soft, warm caress against my neck. In that suspended moment, the entire world narrowed to the space between our silently yearning bodies. Every glance was a tangible touch, every shared sigh a conversation spoken in a language only we understood. The rustle of her clothing was a symphony, a hushed prelude to the profound intimacy unfolding in the quiet dark. I drowned in the deep, starlit pools of her eyes, feeling utterly known and desperately wanted. This was not merely a night, but a beautiful, stolen eternity woven from breath, touch, and trembling hope.
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