GeetaBhabhi
HotSaryana,Desi Dick
The golden afternoon light spilled through the window, catching the dust motes dancing around us like tiny stars. His calloused hand, rough from work, traced a path of fire up my arm with a touch so gentle it made my breath catch. I could feel the steady, strong rhythm of his heart beneath my palm, a wild drum answering the frantic flutter in my own chest. Our foreheads touched, a silent conversation passing in the shared warmth of our skin and the quiet space between our lips. The scent of his skin, a mix of sunshine and clean sweat, filled my senses, intoxicating and uniquely him. Every nerve ending sang with a heightened awareness, alive to the whisper of his breath against my cheek. A soft sigh escaped me, not of words, but of pure feeling, a surrender to the current pulling us closer. In his deep, dark eyes, I saw my own longing reflected back at me, a boundless and terrifying hope. The world outside this room, with its noise and demands, simply ceased to exist, leaving only this sacred, suspended moment. This was not a collision, but a slow, inevitable merging of two souls finally coming home.
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