In the dimly lit chamber, a woman with raven black hair stood, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of the setting sun streaming through the window. Her skin was a rich shade of brown, and her curves were luscious and full. She was an Indian beauty, her long hair cascading down her back in thick waves. She was nude, her body on display for the world to see, and yet she seemed unashamed, unapologetic.
She had been admiring herself in the mirror, running her hands over her curves, feeling the softness of her skin, the firmness of her breasts. She was a woman who knew her own beauty, who reveled in her own sensuality. She was a woman who was unafraid to take what she wanted, to go after what she desired.
And what she desired was him.
He was a man of few words, but his body spoke volumes. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a muscular frame. His skin was a deep tan, and his hair was a tousled mess of curls. He was a man who knew how to please a woman, who knew how to make her body sing with pleasure.
She turned to face him, her eyes locked on his. She could see the desire in his gaze, the hunger that matched her own. She moved towards him, her hips swaying, her body moving with a grace and sensuality that was intoxicating.
She reached out, her fingers tracing a path along his chest, feeling the heat of his skin, the beat of his heart. She leaned in, her lips brushing against his, a soft whisper of a kiss that quickly deepened. Her tongue danced with his, tasting him, exploring him.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, feeling the warmth of her body, the softness of her curves. He ran his hands over her, feeling the silky smoothness of her skin, the firmness of her breasts. He pinched her nipples, feeling them harden under his touch, hearing her soft moans of pleasure.
He moved his hands down, over her hips, her thighs, feeling the heat that radiated from her. He traced a path with his fingers, down to the wetness between her legs. He stroked her, feeling her wetness, her desire. He slipped a finger inside her, feeling her tightness, her heat.
She moaned, her hips bucking against his hand, her body moving with a rhythm that was instinctual, primal. He added another finger, stretching her, preparing her. She was ready, she was wet.
He entered her, his cock sliding in easily, filling her, stretching her. She gasped, her body tensing, her muscles clenching around him. He moved slowly, his hips thrusting, his cock sliding in and out of her.
She moved with him, her hips meeting his, her body taking him in, feeling him fill her. She moaned, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her nails leaving marks on his skin.
He increased his pace, his hips thrusting harder, his cock sliding in deeper. She moaned, her body moving with his, her hips bucking, her muscles clenching.
He felt her tighten around him, her body tensing, her muscles clenching. He knew she was close, he could feel it. He thrust harder, deeper, his cock sliding in and out of her.
She cried out, her body tensing, her muscles clenching. She came, her orgasm washing over her, her body shaking with the force of it.
He followed, his own orgasm taking him, his cock twitching inside her, filling her with his warmth.
They lay there, their bodies entwined, their breaths mingling. They were spent, their bodies sated.
But they knew this was just the beginning.
