breathplay

Don't Hold Your Breath... Hold Mine

The dark room is hot, steamy with humidity. The fan in the window turns inexorably, the thrum of its small motor filling the room along with small, choked gasps and the panting of heated breath on feverish, flushed skin. The slight tang of sea air drifts into the window, misting in the jaundiced, mottled light of the street lamp just outside. A small yelp, a low moan, and then silence, nothing in the room for several seconds but the faint rustling of damp sheets and the steady purr of the window fan...

Then a gasp, and heavy panting. The tingling high of relief flooding through the veins as easily as oxygen floods the lungs.

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