Your palms would swallow those narrow hips whole, fingers wrapping around each cheek with room to spare. She's aware of the contrast — that's exactly why she's offering it up like this, chin tilted, waiting.

Something about the smallness makes the want sharper. You'd grip carefully at first, testing the weight of something so compact and soft, then less carefully when she presses back against the pressure.

Thumbs tracing the curve inward, spreading, squeezing — her size turns every touch into something that registers fully, no movement wasted, nothing lost between your hands and her skin.