The Photographer’s Obsession (Part 2): Morning Ritual 🔥🍆💦
Added 2025-04-27 06:55:57 +0000 UTCThe soft morning sunlight seeped through the half-closed curtains, brushing warmly across my closed eyelids.
I stirred slightly, arms still wrapped around a soft, warm body.
For a fleeting second, I thought I was dreaming.
But then — flashes of last night came flooding back:
The kisses.
The soft lips.
The heart pounding against my chest as I touched her hair, her skin.
The way her silky black river enveloped both of us in darkness and desire.
Selia.
I opened my eyes.
She was still here.
Sleeping peacefully beside me, tangled in the aftermath of our passion.
⸻
I barely dared to breathe as I took her in.
Her skin — impossibly pale and soft — glowed under the pale morning light.
Her hair — black, sleek, endless — was spread all over the bed and me:
On my arm.
Across my chest.
Sliding gently across my stomach.
The sunlight caught every strand, making them gleam like threads of black silk.
Her hair was everywhere: on the blanket, across my face, trailing down her shoulders, pooling across her breasts — her full, perfect breasts rising and falling gently with her slow breathing.
⸻
I bent down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
My fingers, careful, reverent, began to gather her hair, smoothing it from the chaotic mess our wild night had left behind.
Running my fingers through her silky strands felt like touching something sacred.
⸻
And then…
A wicked thought flickered in my mind.
What if I used her hair to pleasure myself while she slept?
My heart hammered against my ribs.
Part of me whispered:
No, that’s not fair. That’s not respectful.
But the darker part, louder, growled:
She’s already yours.
There’s no more boundaries now.
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