Yield

Not a sound can be heard except our breathing.  Her breath is warm across my neck, my tongue soft and tender against hers.  She led me here not knowing what to expect and I followed entranced by her sway.  With nothing to gain minus temporary accomplished lust we do not hesitate in locking the door.  My fingers quickly find her moisture as if a man possessed and as she whimpers “what are we doing?”, she hungrily presses into me.  Her delicate petals part against my touch and my heart races when she whispers “I want you to fuck me.”

Photo Title: Game On

Artist/Photographer/Model/Original Post: Curiosa and Curiosa

Location of Work:  deviantArt

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