Tag: Oral Sex

Emma – 02 – A Massage to Remember

The morning sun filtered through the lace curtains of Emma’s Oxfordshire cottage, casting delicate patterns on the hardwood floor of her bedroom. It was the day after her encounter with Richard in the woodland, and her body still hummed with the memory of their passionate hours together. She’d woken with a lingering ache between her legs, a delicious reminder of Richard’s thick, cock and the way he’d filled her so completely. Her husband, Derreck, was still away for work, not due back for a few days, and the freedom of his absence allowed her to revel in the afterglow of her indiscretion.

Emma had just finished a light breakfast of toast and tea when the doorbell rang, a soft chime that echoed through the quiet house. She smoothed her hands over the simple cotton robe she wore, the fabric clinging to her bare skin, she hadn’t bothered with underwear, her body still craving the freedom of being unencumbered after yesterday’s escapades. Her chestnut hair was loose, tumbling over her shoulders, and her skin glowed with a post-coital radiance that made her feel more alive than she had in months.

She opened the door to find Richard standing on her doorstep, his tall frame filling the space. He wore a fitted t-shirt and loose trousers, the outline of his impressive cock already faintly visible through the fabric. His brown eyes met hers, a spark of recognition and desire flaring between them, and Emma felt her pulse quicken.

“Morning,” Richard said, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine. He held up a small bag, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “I thought you might be a bit sore after yesterday. Brought some massage oil, thought I’d give you a massage to remember.”

Emma’s smile widened, her body already responding to the promise in his words. “That sounds perfect,” she said, stepping aside to let him in. “Come in.”

She led him through the cottage, the scent of lavender from a diffuser filling the air, and up the stairs to her bedroom. The room was softly lit, the curtains still drawn to let in just enough light to create a warm, intimate atmosphere. The bed was unmade, the sheets rumpled from her restless sleep, and Emma gestured to it with a casual wave. “I’ll grab a towel,” she said, her voice light but laced with anticipation. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Richard set his bag on the bedside table, pulling out a bottle of massage oil and a small speaker that began to play soft, ambient music, a gentle melody that filled the room with a calming energy. Emma returned with a large, fluffy towel, spreading it over the bed before turning to him. She untied her robe, letting it slip from her shoulders to pool at her feet, revealing her naked body. Her small breasts, tipped with rosy nipples, stood pert in the cool air, and the neat triangle of her pussy glistened faintly with the first stirrings of arousal. Richard’s eyes darkened as he took her in, his gaze lingering on her curves, her skin, the way her body seemed to glow in the soft light.

“You’re stunning,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. He began to undress, pulling his t-shirt over his head to reveal a chest dusted with graying hair, his body still fit and strong. He kicked off his trousers, his cock springing free, already half-hard and as impressive as she remembered, thick, uncut, and long. Emma’s breath caught at the sight of him, her pussy clenching with need, but she forced herself to focus on the massage. She wanted to savor this, to let the anticipation build.

“Lie down on your stomach,” Richard said, his tone gentle but firm. Emma complied, stretching out on the towel, her arms resting by her sides, her cheek pressed against the soft fabric. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her as he moved to the side of the bed, the faint scent of the massage oil, sandalwood and citrus, filling the air as he poured some into his hands and rubbed them together to warm it.

Richard started at her shoulders, his hands strong and sure as he kneaded the muscles there, working out the tension she hadn’t even realized she was carrying. His fingers were skilled, pressing into the knots with just the right amount of pressure, and Emma let out a soft sigh, her body relaxing under his touch. He moved down her back, his hands gliding over her skin, the oil making her feel slick and warm. He worked the muscles along her spine, his thumbs pressing into the small of her back, and Emma felt a wave of pleasure that was both soothing and arousing.

“You’re good at this,” she murmured, her voice muffled against the towel. “Really good.”

“I’ve had some practice,” Richard replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. His hands moved lower, kneading her glutes with a firm, steady pressure that made her moan softly. The sensation was exquisite, the line between therapeutic and sensual blurring as his fingers worked the muscles, his touch lingering just long enough to make her squirm. He moved down to her thighs, his hands gliding over the backs of her legs, his thumbs pressing into the sensitive spots just below her ass. Emma’s pussy throbbed with each touch, her arousal building as his hands moved closer to her most intimate place.

Richard’s hands paused at the tops of her thighs, his fingers brushing the edges of her pussy lips, and Emma’s breath hitched. “Turn over,” he said, his voice low and husky, and she obeyed, rolling onto her back. Her breasts jiggled slightly as she settled, her nipples hard and aching, her pussy now fully exposed to him. Richard’s cock was fully hard now, jutting out from his body, the foreskin partially retracted to reveal the glistening tip, but he made no move to touch himself, his focus entirely on her.

He poured more oil into his hands, starting at her shoulders again, his touch lighter now, more sensual. He massaged her collarbone, his fingers brushing the tops of her breasts, and Emma’s breath quickened, her body arching slightly into his touch. He moved to her arms, kneading the muscles there, his hands gliding down to her wrists and back up, the oil making her skin glisten in the soft light. When he finally reached her breasts, his touch was gentle, almost reverent, his hands cupping them as his thumbs brushed over her nipples. Emma moaned, her hips shifting on the bed, her pussy growing wetter with each passing second.

Richard’s hands moved down her stomach, his fingers tracing the dip of her navel, the curve of her hips, before settling on her thighs. He massaged the fronts of her legs, his hands working the muscles with the same skill he’d shown before, but now his touch was more deliberate, more teasing. His fingers brushed the edges of her pussy again, and Emma whimpered, her legs parting slightly in invitation.

He didn’t make her wait long. Richard’s fingers slid between her thighs, brushing against her pussy lips, and Emma gasped, her hips lifting off the bed. Her outer lips were slick with arousal, her inner lips peeking through, throbbing with need, and Richard took his time, his touch light and exploratory. He traced the outline of her pussy, his fingers gliding over her lips, teasing her entrance without entering her. “You’re so wet,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “So ready for me.”

Emma moaned, her hands gripping the towel beneath her as his fingers continued their slow exploration. He parted her lips gently, his thumb brushing over her clit, and the sensation was electric, a jolt of pleasure that made her cry out. He circled her clit with his thumb, his touch light but firm, while his other fingers teased her entrance, dipping just inside before pulling back. Emma’s hips bucked, her body begging for more, and Richard obliged, sliding two fingers inside her with a slow, deliberate motion.

Her pussy was tight, still slightly tender from yesterday, but so wet that his fingers slid in easily, her walls clenching around him. Richard curled his fingers, searching for her G-spot, and when he found it, Emma’s moan turned into a cry, her body trembling with the intensity of the sensation. He pressed against that sensitive spot, his fingers moving in a slow, rhythmic motion, while his thumb continued to circle her clit. The dual stimulation was overwhelming, the pleasure building in waves that made her head spin.

“Richard,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “Oh, God, that feels so good.” Her hands reached for him, her fingers tangling in his hair as he leaned down, his breath hot against her pussy. He kissed her inner thighs, his lips soft and teasing, before moving to her pussy, his tongue flicking out to taste her. The first touch of his tongue on her clit made Emma cry out, her hips bucking against his face, and Richard groaned, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through her.

He lapped at her clit, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate circles, while his fingers continued to work her G-spot, the combination driving her closer to the edge. Emma’s moans grew louder, her body trembling as the pleasure built, her pussy clenching around his fingers. Richard’s tongue was relentless, alternating between circling her clit and flicking it with quick, precise movements, while his fingers pressed harder against her G-spot, the pressure almost too much to bear.

Emma’s orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her pussy clenching around his fingers as she came, her cries echoing through the room. Her body shuddered, her hips bucking against his face, and Richard didn’t stop, his tongue and fingers working her through the waves of pleasure until she was gasping for breath, her body limp on the bed. He pulled back slowly, his fingers sliding out of her, his lips pressing a final, tender kiss to her clit before he sat back, his cock throbbing with need.

But he wasn’t done with her yet. Richard stood, his tall frame looming over her, his cock jutting out, hard and ready. Emma’s eyes locked on it, her pussy clenching with anticipation, and she rolled onto her stomach without being asked, her ass lifting slightly in invitation. Richard positioned himself behind her, his hands gripping her hips as he entered her, his cock sliding into her pussy with a slow, deliberate thrust.

The angle was perfect, his cock filling her completely, the head brushing against her G-spot with every thrust. Emma moaned, her face pressed into the towel, her hands gripping the fabric as he fucked her, his movements deep and powerful. Richard’s hands roamed her back, his fingers tracing the curve of her spine, the dip of her waist, as he thrust into her, his pace quickening as his own pleasure built.

Emma came again, her pussy clenching around him, her cries muffled against the towel as waves of pleasure crashed through her. Richard groaned, his thrusts growing erratic as he neared his own release, and with a final, deep thrust, he came, his hot cum filling her pussy as he shuddered above her. They collapsed together on the bed, their bodies slick with sweat, their breaths mingling in the quiet room.

As they lay there, tangled in each other, Emma felt a deep satisfaction, her body sated in a way she hadn’t thought possible. Richard’s hand stroked her hair, a tender gesture that made her smile, and she knew this wouldn’t be the last time they shared such a moment. The memory of his massage, his fingers, his tongue, and his cock would stay with her long after he was gone, a reminder of the passion they’d found in each other.

Emma – 03 – Logging Bats

March 22, 2025
Her Light on X

On X’s wild stage, he found her light,
A spark of her, both bold and shy,
Her words, her frames, they stole his sight,
A sensual soul beneath the sky.
She doubts her form, her face, her grace,
Yet through her posts, he sees her truth,
Each line she shares, each tender trace,
Reveals a beauty born of truth.

That image haunts, black bra, black lace,
She leans to view, a gift unfurled,
The cups pulled low, her breasts embrace,
Fantastic curves that shift his world.
She calls them flawed, unsure, unwell,
But he deems them perfection’s art,
A vision where his heart would dwell,
A marvel carved by life’s own heart.

Her thighs, they call, a silken plea,
Inviting fingers to explore,
Their fullness stirs a need in he,
A touch he’s dreamed of, and much more.
Her knickers hug her mound so tight,
A tease of secrets held within,
He ponders joys in that delight,
What pleasures bloom beneath her skin.

Her face, she claims, feels out of place,
Awkwardness she’s learned to scorn,
Yet X has shown, in every space,
A chorus lifts where doubt was born.
“They say her eyes are stars,” he hears,
“Her smile’s a dawn,” they softly sing,
He nods, her features banish fears,
An art, a queen, a sacred thing.

He’d start with her, so slow, so sure,
Undressing her with reverent care,
Her lovely neck, a path so pure,
He’d kiss and linger, warm and bare.
Downward then, his lips would roam,
Past breasts that rise, past mound’s sweet swell,
To legs he’d trace, his hands a home,
Exploring all her form would tell.

Outside her thighs, his fingers glide,
A tender map of flesh and grace,
His mouth would follow, side by side,
Each inch a shrine, a cherished place.
Upward then, her legs would part,
An invitation, soft and free,
He’d answer with his beating heart,
To show the want she stirs in he.

First fingers, gentle, seek her core,
A dance of touch, a slow caress,
Then mouth descends, to taste, adore,
Her warmth, her wet, a sweet excess.
His tongue would weave, his lips would play,
Each sigh she gives, his guiding star,
He’d worship her in every way,
To prove how perfect that they are.

Their bodies then would slowly meld,
His cock would glide, a tender fit,
In her, his love, his soul compelled,
A fire where their passions lit.
They’d move as one, a rhythm sweet,
Her thighs around him, tight, alive,
Each thrust a vow, each breath complete,
A union where their spirits thrive.

She doubts her shell, her mirrored gaze,
But he sees all, her soul, her skin,
Perfection lies in all her ways,
A beauty fierce, a glow within.
On X she blooms, and he’s her muse,
Entranced by every post she shares,
His heart, it knows it can’t refuse,
A woman wondrous, bold, and rare.

These verses sing his heartfelt plea,
Of her, his dawn, his muse, his night,
Her body, face, her sensuality,
Are treasures bathed in purest light.
No flaw he sees, no fault to mend,
Just her, unveiled, a perfect sight,
Their passion’s start, its blissful end,
A love ignited, burning bright.

March 20, 2025
Ode to Fellatio

Slow Glide Drift

He savors when it starts so slow,
A gentle glide from base to crown,
Lips soft as whispers in the flow,
A tease that pulls his tension down.
It’s smooth, unhurried, building heat,
A drift that wakes his every nerve,
Each inch a promise, soft and sweet,
A curve he feels with every swerve.

Steady Pulse Pump

A rhythm firm, a constant beat,
He loves the pulse that holds him tight,
A tongue that moves in waves replete,
A cadence soaring through the night.
It’s strong, it’s sure, a metronome,
His breath aligns with every stroke,
A pump that calls him far from home,
A fire stoked with every poke.

Quick Flick Flash

Fast and sharp, a sudden flick,
He thrills to sparks that light his core,
A tongue that dances, wild and quick,
A burst he can’t help but adore.
It’s rapid, fierce, a teasing snap,
His groans a signal, raw and free,
Each flash a jolt across the gap,
A rush that sets his spirit free.

Deep Throat Drop

He craves the plunge, the full embrace,
A descent that takes him all the way,
A warmth that grips in tightest space,
A depth where words just fade away.
It’s bold, it’s deep, a fearless dive,
His pulse a thunder, loud and strong,
A drop where primal drives revive,
A thrill he’s wanted all along.

Tip Tease Tickle

A hover light around the peak,
He loves the focus on the head,
A tongue that plays, a gentle tweak,
A tickle where his thoughts are led.
It’s soft, it’s precise, a circling chase,
His hips twitch sharp with every pass,
A tease that paints across his face,
A spark that builds on tender grass.

Swirling Twist Turn

Circles spin, a twisting grip,
He relishes the spiral’s pull,
A tongue that winds around the tip,
A swirl that leaves his senses full.
Each turn a coil, a rising hum,
His voice a growl, a quiet roar,
A twist that makes his body drum,
A turn he’s always craving more.

Gentle Graze Nudge

A graze of teeth, a daring brush,
He likes the edge, the subtle bite,
A nudge that sparks a sudden rush,
A thrill that lifts him to new height.
It’s light, it’s risky, perfectly timed,
His skin alight with every scrape,
A graze that’s bold yet so refined,
A nudge that shifts his inner shape.

Humming Vibration Jam

A hum begins, a buzzing wave,
He feels the thrill from deep within,
A sound that makes his body cave,
A jam that sets his soul to spin.
It’s low, it’s steady, pulsing through,
His nerves alive, his mind a blur,
A vibration strong and true,
A beat where pleasures all concur.

Wet and Warm Surge

Warmth and wet, a slick embrace,
He loves the flood that soaks him whole,
A tongue that glides in liquid grace,
A surge that storms his very soul.
It’s lush, it’s hot, a primal bath,
His groans a tide, his grip grows tight,
A wave that carves a wilder path,
A warmth that blazes through the night.

Hands and Mouth Duet

A hand joins in, a tandem play,
He craves the grip with every lick,
A stroke that pulls in bold array,
A duet fast and thick and quick.
It’s syncopated, firm, and sure,
His senses split in sweet divide,
A mouth and hand in pure allure,
A ride where passions coincide.

Pressure Point Push

Pressure lands, a focused squeeze,
He loves the press on just one spot,
A tongue that locks with expert ease,
A push that ties him in a knot.
It’s deep, it’s fixed, a steady hold,
His cries a map to guide the way,
A point where pleasures all unfold,
A push that makes him bend and sway.

Full Length Sweep

No single zone, but all at once,
He relishes the sweeping run,
A tongue that travels, bold and blunt,
A journey basking in the sun.
Each pass a stroke, a broad caress,
His body hums from root to tip,
A sweep that’s more than he can guess,
A thrill that makes his spirit rip.

Stop and Start Jolt

A pause, a break, then sudden start,
He thrives on shifts that break the flow,
A halt that teases, pulls apart,
A jolt that makes his fire grow.
The stop builds ache, the rush ignites,
His breath a bridge from void to flame,
A technique wild in its delights,
A game where he forgets his name.

Soft Suck Draw

A gentle suck, a tender pull,
He melts beneath the subtle take,
A draw that fills him to the full,
A tide that makes his body quake.
It’s slow, it’s smooth, a lover’s art,
His sighs a rhythm, deep and low,
A suck that claims his beating heart,
A draw where endless rivers flow.

Frenzied Finish Rush

All at once, the pace explodes,
He craves the chaos, fast and free,
A clash of moves in wildest modes,
A rush that bends reality.
It’s fierce, it’s raw, a breaking wall,
His voice a storm, his body bows,
A finish where he gives his all,
A rush where ecstasy outflows.

March 20, 2025
Ode to Cunnilingus

Slow Tease

She craves the start with whispers soft and slow,
A gentle kiss that lands below her line,
A breath that warms before the lips bestow,
A pause to let her senses intertwine.
The tip of tongue, a fleeting, tender graze,
Builds tension in her arching, quivering frame,
A rhythm stalled to set her nerves ablaze,
Anticipation fuels her lover’s game.
Each moment stretched, a torture sweet and fine,
Her skin alive with every hinted trace,
A sigh escapes, a signal to divine,
The wait itself becomes her warm embrace.

Deep Dive

She yearns for depth, a plunge that knows no bounds,
A fearless mouth that claims her whole desire,
No timid touch, but hunger that surrounds,
A swirling force that sets her core afire.
Each stroke is bold, unyielding in its quest,
To find the pulse that drives her wild and free,
A conquest deep, where passion’s fully pressed,
Her moans declare sweet victory.
The dive consumes, a torrent unrestrained,
Her body bends to meet the forceful claim,
A union fierce, where nothing is retained,
Her cries resound, unbridled by the shame.
The depths she loves are endless, dark, and vast,
A place where pleasure’s echo lingers long,
A storm that holds her till the very last,
Her trembling form sings rapture’s primal song.

Feather Flick

A lighter touch is what she sometimes seeks,
A flicker soft as feathers on her skin,
The tip that dances, teases as it speaks,
A playful game where patience wears her thin.
Each subtle lap ignites a trembling spark,
A shiver born from delicacy’s embrace,
A fleeting brush to light the waiting dark,
Her sighs confess the thrill of such a pace.
The air grows thick with every tender pass,
A whisper-touch that promises much more,
Her hips respond, a ripple through the grass,
A quiet storm she cannot quite ignore.

Steady Pulse

She loves the beat, a rhythm strong and true,
A constant hum that holds her in its sway,
No rush, no break, just pressure pushing through,
A metronome to guide her all the way.
Each circle drawn with purpose, firm and sure,
A tempo set to match her rising tide,
The cadence builds what she cannot endure,
Till waves of bliss crash hard on every side.
It’s steady like the heartbeat of the earth,
A grounding force that anchors all her need,
Each pulse a gift, a moment of rebirth,
Her body sways to rhythm’s primal creed.
The drumbeat holds her, never letting go,
A march toward ecstasy’s release,
Her breath aligns, a synchronized flow,
The steady tide brings her to peace.

Edge Play

She thrills at borders, teasing near the peak,
A hover there, denying full release,
A tongue that knows just when to pull back, weak,
To make her beg for pleasure’s sweet increase.
The brink becomes her lover’s cruel delight,
A dance of almosts, trembling in her thighs,
Each near-miss sharpens craving in the night,
Her gasps are gifts beneath the taunting skies.
The game is power, balanced on a thread,
A push and pull that leaves her voice undone,
Each pause a blade that carves inside her head,
The tension coils, a battle yet unwon.
She loves the ache, the torture of delay,
A precipice where want and will collide,
Her pleas grow loud, a wild, unscripted play,
Till mercy falls and sweeps her with the tide.

Warm Bath

She melts beneath a mouth that’s soft and wet,
A liquid warmth that soothes her every nerve,
A flow of heat where tenderness is met,
A gentle lap her contours long to serve.
The slick caress envelopes all she feels,
A tide that rises slow and full of care,
A balm that heals as much as it reveals,
Her softness blooms in humid, heavy air.
It’s comfort first, a bath of sweet repose,
A haven where her tensions slip away,
Each wave a kiss that lingers as it grows,
A warmth that holds her in its tender sway.

Wild Storm

She craves the chaos, fierce and uncontrolled,
A tempest born of lips and tongue untamed,
A rush that grips her, reckless, sharp, and bold,
A fury where her wildness is unclaimed.
It’s fast and rough, a whirlwind on her skin,
A clash of heat that shatters all her poise,
Her body bucks, surrendering to the din,
A primal roar within the storm’s loud noise.
The madness pulls her to a feral place,
A lightning strike in every jagged lick,
Her screams erupt, unbridled in their grace,
The tempest leaves her breathless, raw, and quick.

Sweet Nibble

She delights in teeth, a graze against her core,
A nip so light it teases more than hurts,
A playful bite that leaves her wanting more,
A spark that flares where gentleness converts.
The edge of pain becomes a lover’s jest,
A contrast sharp against the softer play,
Each tiny tug ignites her tender crest,
Her laughter blends with moans along the way.
It’s mischief wrapped in pleasure’s warm disguise,
A daring twist that keeps her on her toes,
The nibble wakes the fire in her eyes,
A secret thrill her body gladly knows.

Humming Song

She loves the buzz, a murmur on her skin,
A vibration low that resonates within,
A hum that starts where tender folds begin,
A melody that pulls her to its spin.
The sound ignites a tremor deep and wide,
A chord that thrums against her fragile gate,
Her hips align, caught up in music’s tide,
A song of bliss she cannot help but sate.
The tone grows strong, a hymn of pure delight,
A resonance that fills her every space,
Her voice joins in, a duet in the night,
The harmony ascends at fevered pace.

Ice Kiss

She craves the chill, a cold surprise to wake,
An icy tongue that shocks her heated bloom,
A contrast stark that makes her body quake,
A shiver born from frost within the gloom.
The coolness melts against her burning need,
A dance of ice and fire in sweet accord,
Each frigid lap a tantalizing deed,
Her gasps confess the thrill she can’t ignore.
The cold retreats, then strikes again anew,
A game of chill that keeps her senses keen,
Her skin alight, a paradox in view,
A frozen kiss where warmth has intervened.

Whispered Word

She hungers for the voice that weaves a spell,
A murmured praise against her tender place,
Each word a thread that makes her body swell,
A story told in breath upon her grace.
The tongue may dance, but words ignite her mind,
A sultry tale of worship and of want,
Her thoughts entwine where flesh and sound align,
A verbal kiss, her deepest, sweetest haunt.
The whispers build, a cadence soft and low,
A promise hummed where silence used to reign,
Her pulse responds, a river set to flow,
The power lies in language’s warm refrain.

Full Feast

She longs for all, a banquet without end,
A mouth that covers every inch it finds,
No part ignored, no boundary to defend,
A feast where hunger breaks the ties that bind.
Each fold, each curve, a morsel to devour,
A greedy claim that leaves no space untouched,
Her body writhes beneath the endless power,
A gluttony of bliss her frame has clutched.
The breadth of it consumes her whole design,
A lavish spread where pleasure knows no cease,
Her cries ascend, a testament divine,
The fullness grants her spirit’s wild release.

Gentle Tide

She seeks the calm, a lapping soft and sure,
A tide that ebbs and flows with quiet grace,
No rush to chase, just peace she can’t ignore,
A soothing balm that holds her in its space.
Each wave is light, a ripple on the shore,
A tender kiss that builds without a strain,
Her breath grows deep, a rhythm to restore,
The gentle tide dissolves her every pain.
It’s slow and kind, a lover’s softest art,
A current warm that cradles all her care,
Her body floats, unburdened at its heart,
A tranquil sea where tension isn’t there.

The Surprise Twist

She loves the shock, a turn she didn’t see,
A sudden shift from patterns she’d expect,
A flick offbeat, a move that sets her free,
A jolt that wakes what comfort might neglect.
The twist arrives, a rogue within the play,
A spark that catches fire in her veins,
Her laughter leaps, then melts into a sway,
The unexpected breaks her sweet refrains.
It’s daring, fresh, a break from all routine,
A curve that keeps her guessing every time,
Her body hums, alive within the scene,
The thrill of new becomes her steepest climb.

Sacred Pause

She treasures stops, the stillness in between,
A breath held long where silence speaks aloud,
A rest that lets her feel what’s truly been,
A reverence within the passion’s shroud.
The pause is holy, sacred in its weight,
A moment where her soul can catch its flight,
Each halt a gift, a chance to contemplate,
Her trembling form bathed soft in afterlight.
It’s not the rush, but quiet that she craves,
A space to feel the echoes of her bliss,
The stillness holds her like a lover saves,
A tender end sealed with a final kiss.

March 20, 2025