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The Room Was Bathed In The Soft, Golden Glow Of Dozens Of Candles, Their Light Dancing Across The Surface Of The Deep, Freestanding Bathtub. The Air Was Thick With The Scent Of Blooming Red Roses And The Sweet, Earthy Aroma Of Crushed Strawberries. Elara Had Led Her There Blindfolded, And When The Silk Scarf Fell Away, Clara’s Breath Caught. The Tub Was A Sea Of Pristine White Foam, Like A Cloud That Had Descended Into Their Bathroom. Floating On Its Surface And Scattered Across The Surrounding Floor Were The Deep Crimson Petals Of A Dozen Roses, A Stark, Beautiful Contrast To The White. A Small, Silver Bowl Held Plump, Ripe Strawberries, Their Green Stems Still Attached. “for You,” Elara Whispered, Her Voice Husky With Promise. She Was Already Undressed, Her Skin Gleaming In The Candlelight. She Took Clara’s Hand And Began To Undress Her, Not With Haste, But With A Reverence That Made Clara’s Knees Weak. Each Button Undone Was A Kiss Placed On Her Collarbone, Each Zipper Lowered A Trail Of Breath Along Her Spine. When They Were Both Bare, Elara Guided Her Into The Water. It Was Perfectly Warm, Embracing Them Both As They Sank Into The Pillowy Embrace Of The Foam. The Bubbles Clung To Their Skin, To The Curve Of Clara’s Breasts, To The Line Of Elara’s Shoulders, Pearlescent And Delicate. Elara Reached For A Strawberry, Holding It To Clara’s Lips. Clara Took A Bite, The Sweet, Tangy Juice Bursting On Her Tongue. Before She Could Swallow, Elara Captured Her Mouth In A Deep, Searching Kiss, Tasting The Fruit On Her Lips, Sharing Its Essence. The Kiss Was Slow And Deep, A Languid Exploration That Spoke Of Hours, Not Minutes. Their Hands Began To Wander, Slick With Warm Water And Foam. Elara’s Fingers Traced Patterns Through The Bubbles On Clara’s Stomach, Dipping Lower, Always Teasing, Always Promising. Clara Arched Her Back, A Soft Moan Escaping Her As Elara’s Touch Grew Bolder, Parting Her, Finding Her Core Amidst The Warm, Sudsy Water. The Sensation Was Incredible—the Slip Of The Water, The Gentle Friction Of Elara’s Knowing Fingers, The Heat Building Within Her. In Return, Clara Turned, Water Sloshing Gently Over The Side Of The Tub, Carrying Rose Petals With It. She Pressed Elara Back Against The Smooth Porcelain, Kissing Her Throat,
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The Room Was Bathed In The Soft, Golden Glow Of Dozens Of Candles, Their Light Dancing Across The Surface Of The Deep, Freestanding Bathtub. The Air Was Thick With The Scent Of Blooming Red Roses And The Sweet, Earthy Aroma Of Crushed Strawberries. Elara Had Led Her There Blindfolded, And When The Silk Scarf Fell Away, Clara’s Breath Caught. The Tub Was A Sea Of Pristine White Foam, Like A Cloud That Had Descended Into Their Bathroom. Floating On Its Surface And Scattered Across The Surrounding Floor Were The Deep Crimson Petals Of A Dozen Roses, A Stark, Beautiful Contrast To The White. A Small, Silver Bowl Held Plump, Ripe Strawberries, Their Green Stems Still Attached. “for You,” Elara Whispered, Her Voice Husky With Promise. She Was Already Undressed, Her Skin Gleaming In The Candlelight. She Took Clara’s Hand And Began To Undress Her, Not With Haste, But With A Reverence That Made Clara’s Knees Weak. Each Button Undone Was A Kiss Placed On Her Collarbone, Each Zipper Lowered A Trail Of Breath Along Her Spine. When They Were Both Bare, Elara Guided Her Into The Water. It Was Perfectly Warm, Embracing Them Both As They Sank Into The Pillowy Embrace Of The Foam. The Bubbles Clung To Their Skin, To The Curve Of Clara’s Breasts, To The Line Of Elara’s Shoulders, Pearlescent And Delicate. Elara Reached For A Strawberry, Holding It To Clara’s Lips. Clara Took A Bite, The Sweet, Tangy Juice Bursting On Her Tongue. Before She Could Swallow, Elara Captured Her Mouth In A Deep, Searching Kiss, Tasting The Fruit On Her Lips, Sharing Its Essence. The Kiss Was Slow And Deep, A Languid Exploration That Spoke Of Hours, Not Minutes. Their Hands Began To Wander, Slick With Warm Water And Foam. Elara’s Fingers Traced Patterns Through The Bubbles On Clara’s Stomach, Dipping Lower, Always Teasing, Always Promising. Clara Arched Her Back, A Soft Moan Escaping Her As Elara’s Touch Grew Bolder, Parting Her, Finding Her Core Amidst The Warm, Sudsy Water. The Sensation Was Incredible—the Slip Of The Water, The Gentle Friction Of Elara’s Knowing Fingers, The Heat Building Within Her. In Return, Clara Turned, Water Sloshing Gently Over The Side Of The Tub, Carrying Rose Petals With It. She Pressed Elara Back Against The Smooth Porcelain, Kissing Her Throat,