Morning coffee

You reach for your morning coffee and find something far more distracting — a woman with big tits leaning against the kitchen counter, barely covered, watching you with quiet confidence.

You notice the way the light catches every curve, the warmth of the room suddenly feeling deliberate, charged with something unspoken that tightens in your chest and lower.

You set the mug down without drinking. You cross the distance slowly, drawn by the pull of soft skin and unhurried desire, the whole morning collapsing into this single, unhurried moment of wanting.