Artemis
Her soft breast was decorated with pearl-like perspiration; fine little hairs stood unbent, trapping the fragrance-carrying breeze. Her dark areola formed a symmetrically bumpy boundary for her pebbled pap. His poetic caress spiked her Gräfenberg to go out of control. Between the fullness of her firm bosom, the wetness of her sweat dripped slowly, searching for a valley where it could accumulate. The pleasure of admiring her beauty is better than touching her; the pleasure of thinking about her is better in a way, but the pleasure of imagining her is real ecstasy."
