🥰🚫😘

I resist and won't never touch my tiny limp clitty. I'm so horny and aroused. I hope, I'll soon get a release through another man's cock.🥰

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The sun of Sylvie

In the sweet setting of French Provence, where the sun caresses the hills and lavender scents perfume the air, Rose, a young 27-year-old school teacher, settles down for a new life.

After studying law to become a lawyer, she chose to follow her heart and embrace the vocation of teacher.

It is in this small Provencal village that she puts down her suitcases, mid-August, to prepare for the start of school and acclimatize herself to this new environment.

On this morning of Saturday, Rose decides to go to the village market, famous for its local products and talented craftsmen.

Dressed in a fluid red dress that hugs her perfect shapes, her long curved legs and her cascading brown hair, she attracts all eyes. Her emerald green eyes and mischievous smile leave no one indifferent, although she is not looking for suitors, still marked by her past romantic disappointments.

In the middle of the colorful stands and the festive atmosphere, Rose sees a blonde woman, alone, busy at her stand. She must be between thirty and forty years old, with a short cut in the square, fine lines and a bewitching turquoise look. Her white dress with flowers emphasizes her slim waist and feminine curves.

She has a radiant smile that immediately catches Rose’s attention. She slowly approaches, discovering that the beautiful stranger is a beekeeper and offers honey jars as well as handmade jewelry.

When their eyes cross, Rose blushes, troubled by the intensity of this moment. The blonde, named Sylvie, bursts with laughter and invites her to taste its lavender honey.

Rose accepts with a big smile. Sylvie approaches her to taste the honey with a small spoon. Their faces are so close that Rose feels butterflies in her belly.

She has a radiant smile that immediately catches Rose’s attention. She slowly approaches, discovering that the beautiful stranger is a beekeeper and offers honey jars as well as handmade jewelry.

She tries to hide her trouble, but Sylvie seems to enjoy it. The stand, named "The sun of Sylvie", offers wooden or silver jewelry with feminist symbols or paganists or even lesbians with a magnificent double venus.

Rose, knowing these meanings well, admires Sylvie’s freedom and open-mindedness. Intrigued by the name of the stand, Rose asks where this famous sun is. Sylvie tells her that it is the sunset visible from the top of the hill overlooking his property.

Rose expresses her desire to see this show, and Sylvie immediately invites her to come the same evening. At 6:00 p.m., they meet and climb together to the top.

On the way, Rose learns more about Sylvie, who left everything for a simple and authentic life. Once at the top, they sit side by side on a wall to admire the sunset.

Their hands come closer, their fingers intertwine, and without a word, their faces touch each other to exchange a long passionate kiss.

In the sweetness of that Provençal night, Rose and Sylvie, their hands still interlaced, slowly raised themselves, their eyes plunging into each other.

The moonlight bathed their faces with a silver glow, accentuating the beauty of their features. Sylvie, with infinite sweetness, caressed the cheek of Rose, her fingers brushing her velvety skin. Rose shivered, not of cold, but of an ardent desire that burned every inch of her being.

They walked in silence to Sylvie’s house, a small haven of peace nestled at the foot of the hill. The door hardly closed, their lips were found, greedy and passionate.

Their bodies pressed against each other, as if magnetized by an irresistible force. Rose felt the hands of Sylvie gliding along her back, giving rise to shivers of pleasure.

She let out a sigh, losing herself in the embrace of this woman who upset her. Sylvie, with a deliberate slowness, slipped the straps of Rose’s red dress, revealing her bare shoulders.

Her lips followed the same path, sowing burning kisses on her skin.

Rose, eyes half closed, savored every sensation, every caress. She felt her robe fall at her feet, leaving her almost naked, vulnerable, but in total confidence.

Sylvie stepped back, admiring the beauty of Rose, her perfect curves, her skin golden by the sun. She slowly undressed herself, revealing her slender body and feminine curves.

Rose, subjugated, could not detach her eyes from this enchanting vision. She stepped forward, her hands trembling with emotion, and stroked Sylvie’s hips, gently rising towards her chest.

Their bodies met, skin against skin, in a sensual and harmonious dance. They lay down on the bed, their breaths mixed, their hearts beating in unison.

Sylvie’s hands explored every corner of Rose’s body, creating waves of pleasure. Rose, in turn, discovered the curves of Sylvie, her fingers sliding on her soft skin, her lips tasting each piece of her body.

Their groans mixed, their bodies undulating in perfect harmony. They gave themselves to each other, without restraint, without modesty, in a total communion.

Their souls seemed to come together, to merge into one another, in a symphony of pleasure and love.

At sunrise, their bodies entwined, they woke up gently, their eyes filled with tenderness and complicity.

Rose stroked Sylvie’s hair, a blissful smile on her lips. Sylvie, eyes shining, muttered: "I think I’ve found my sun, Rose."

And in this moment of pure bliss, they realized that their story was just beginning, bathed in light and love.

Elula Lavande