As the sun peeks through the curtains, a lithe Chinese beauty stirs beside you. She leans in, her breath warm on your neck, and begins to trace your chest with her fingers. Her small hands are deft, knowing, as she descends lower, wrapping around your morning arousal. She looks up at you, her almond eyes sparkling with mischief, and begins to stroke you slowly, expertly. Her hands glide up and down your length, her grip tight and steady, as she brings you to the brink. You watch, captivated, as she guides you to release, her hands milking every last drop.