Ana's Intimate Ritual

Ana's eyes flutter closed as she inhales deeply, the scent of her own arousal mingling with the faint aroma of the oil. She imagines the silk as restraints, her lover's hands, his voice commanding her, his breath hot on her neck. She tugs at the bonds, testing them, her heart pounding in her chest. She can feel the pulse of her desire, the wetness between her thighs. She arches her back, her nipples hard, her body yearning for more. But she resists, losing herself in the slow burn of anticipation, the exquisite torture of delay.

• ana

• Unknown