20-06-2025, 01:47 PM
Abhi’s breath stalled.
She was half on top of him now—curved along his side like water fitting into a hollow.
Her chest pressed softly against his shoulder
He can feel her heavy breasts pressing his shoulder.
He can feel the softness and hardness of her full breasts at the same time.
The only layer between his shoulders and her breasts is her sports bra
The feel of her breasts against his skin, even through her sports bra, making him stiff
Her thigh heavy against his.
Her breath brushing his cheek.
Her palm—firm, unmoving—rested over his lower stomach, fingers spreading gently with each inhale.
“You’re safe,” she said, almost too low to hear. “Let your body go.”
He closed his eyes, helpless to the sensation.
Her touch wasn’t exploratory—but it was complete.
She wasn’t guiding him into a twist anymore.
She was containing him.
Cradling him in a stillness he didn’t know he craved.
His pulse thudded beneath her hand. He was certain she felt it.
And then… she moved.
Just a little.
The hand on his stomach began to draw slow circles.
Not arousing—but arousing.
Not clinical—but knowing.
Her breath followed the movement, soft and warm near his throat.
“Your hips are resisting,” she said quietly. “You’re holding back.”
She was half on top of him now—curved along his side like water fitting into a hollow.
Her chest pressed softly against his shoulder
He can feel her heavy breasts pressing his shoulder.
He can feel the softness and hardness of her full breasts at the same time.
The only layer between his shoulders and her breasts is her sports bra
The feel of her breasts against his skin, even through her sports bra, making him stiff
Her thigh heavy against his.
Her breath brushing his cheek.
Her palm—firm, unmoving—rested over his lower stomach, fingers spreading gently with each inhale.
“You’re safe,” she said, almost too low to hear. “Let your body go.”
He closed his eyes, helpless to the sensation.
Her touch wasn’t exploratory—but it was complete.
She wasn’t guiding him into a twist anymore.
She was containing him.
Cradling him in a stillness he didn’t know he craved.
His pulse thudded beneath her hand. He was certain she felt it.
And then… she moved.
Just a little.
The hand on his stomach began to draw slow circles.
Not arousing—but arousing.
Not clinical—but knowing.
Her breath followed the movement, soft and warm near his throat.
“Your hips are resisting,” she said quietly. “You’re holding back.”
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