Bimbo In Bed (Patreon)

Black lace on tanned, oiled skin. Every muscle carved and gleaming under bedside lamplight.

She starts lying back like she owns the room. Because she does.

When she sits up and hits that double bicep, the lace stops being the point. The veins on her arms are. The striations across her back are. The way she looks over her shoulder with that smile like she knows exactly what you’re thinking.

This is the line between soft and hard, and she lives on it.

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