-: Pancha Vastra :- ( By Shailu )

[shailu4ever]

 
The lamplight creates shadows, highlights curves, textures, the subtle interplay of skin and form.
 
And Arjun’s body responds as if he is feeling the light on her flesh, the warmth of the touch before it even happens.
 
"Kamala's breasts were..."
 
Meera searches for words, her hands lifting slightly as if shaping the space itself around them.
 
The pause magnifies the erotic tension, each second stretched like silk.
 
"Beautiful."
 
"Heavy."
 
"Full."
 
"The kind of breasts that speak of womanhood in its ripest form."
 
 
"They were large..." Meera says, 

"They were larger than most women's I'd seen bathing at the river."
 
"Round and soft-looking, with a natural sag that made them seem real, touchable, human rather than the impossible firmness of temple sculptures."
 
"Her nipples were dark, deep brown, almost black in the lamplight."
 
"Large areolas, easily the width of two fingers."
 
"And the nipples themselves were already hard, standing out from her breasts like small declarations of arousal."
 
"I could see them clearly."
 
"Could see the texture of her areolas, slightly bumpy, primal."
 
"I could see how her nipples tightened further as the air touched them, as anticipation built."
 
Arjun’s mouth is completely dry, his hands trembling where they rest on his knees, the anticipation coiling low in his body, thick and electric.
 
He is achingly hard, his body responding to words as if they were touches, as if the story itself were the most intimate caress.
 
 
"Ravi's hands came around to cup her breasts."
 
Meera continues, 

"And the sound Kamala made, it was almost a sob."
 
"Relief and need and pleasure all mixed together."
 
"His hands looked dark against her skin."
 
"Large."
 
"Masculine."
 
"Completely covering her breasts, holding their weight, testing their softness."
 
"He squeezed gently."
 
"Then more firmly."
 
"Learning the give of her flesh, the way her breasts filled his palms and spilled over."
 
"His thumbs found her nipples."
 
"Circled them."
 
"Brushed across the tips."
 
"Kamala's back arched."
 
"Her head fell back against his shoulder."
 
"Her mouth opened in a silent cry."
 
Meera’s own hand drifts to her throat again, fingers resting lightly against the pulse beating there, a mirror of the tension she describes.