He had imagined what it might feel like—the softness, the subtle lines, the way age could change a body’s shape. But nothing prepared him for the warmth he discovered the moment she finally let him explore her lower curves.
Her skin was tender and alive beneath his fingertips, radiating a heat that surprised him. There was a softness, yes, but also a depth of sensation that went beyond physical touch. It was like tracing the map of a lifetime—each curve a memory, each subtle movement a story.
She didn’t rush him. Instead, she guided him slowly, her breath catching as his hand moved with reverence and curiosity. The quiet intimacy between them grew with every inch he explored, drawing them closer in ways neither had expected.
It wasn’t just warmth from her body—it was the warmth of trust, of vulnerability embraced and shared. That first time wasn’t about haste or passion—it was about discovery, connection, and awakening something neither of them had felt in years.
He realized then that age hadn’t dulled her desire; it had deepened it, made it richer and far more intense. And the warmth he felt wasn’t just skin deep—it was the glow of a woman fully alive, opening herself to the moment, to him.