Private Dance of the Flesh

Hidden away in the dim glow of her room, a woman begins her intimate ballet. Her fingers, light as a feather, trace the curve of her neck, descending to caress the swell of her breasts. She arches, a silent symphony of sensation, as her hands explore the soft expanse of her stomach. Her breath hitches, a staccato rhythm, as she dips lower, finding her center, wet and throbbing with anticipation. Her eyes flutter closed, lost in the private dance of her body, as she plays her most intimate sonata.

• playing
• myself

• Unknown