Brunette Beauty From Bollywood India

She smiled at her reflection as she gathered her hair into a ponytail, taking a scrunchie from the table and wrapping her hair with it. Slowly, she loosened the strings to her bag, turning it over and releasing the necklace into her hand.She smiled as she examined the necklace, the crystal was like nothing she had ever seen. The light did not seem to reflect in it but instead was absorbed. It wasn’t round, but it also wasn’t prism-like. The odd-shaped crystal was set inside a thin wire wrapped around it and hung on a leather string.She wanted to see how it looked on her before Don got home. Carefully undoing the clasp, she slipped it around her neck and then refastened it. The crystal lay beautifully just above her cleavage. It wasn’t too large to look out of place, and not too small that it wouldn’t be noticed. She let her hair loose again, the way she liked to sleep with it. The crystal felt warm to her and she decided it wouldn’t hurt to take a short nap with it. Laying down on. I savour like ambrosia, the nectar of the gods, these sweet eternal seconds of lingering on the cusp, of delicious anticipation and simmering arousal – both longing for and yet postponing that sure and certain moment of surrender, the conceding of oneself that is actually the consuming of the other, the coming together in every sense of that phrase, body and soul.Claire’s fingertips gently brush my knee, and then so softly and so slowly – oh, so slowly! they trace along my upper thigh, a delicate caress that has an electrifying effect upon me, sending shimmering tingles through my body, and I give a soft gasp of entreaty. She places one knee on the sofa, between my parted legs, and I see with intense clarity her teeth nibble just briefly on her lower lip and the flare of her nostrils, as she savours the heady thrill of anticipation and the sense almost of vertigo of the pivotal moment – just like the skier at the top of the piste, before she digs in, hunches low, and sweeps with.
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