A story about us

Eric made his way through the bookshelves by himself. A certain guy in black clothes is reciting poetry into the microphone, talking about the connection between flowers and death. The scent of coffee mochas hit his nose, the sounds of a flute and the faint howl of a wolf drifted into his ears. All his impressions were on his wife.

Her ebony-black hair fell loose and wild behind her shoulders. Her black-framed glasses really accentuated her blue eyes, which widened slightly to her surprise as she watched him approach. The sweater hugged every inch of her attractive breasts, then fell loosely around her hips. A tight black mini skirt stopped at thigh level. At the second glance, Eric corrected his opinion, the skirt was much shorter than he had previously thought, because that piece of fabric was quietly pulled up in a comfortable sitting position. her and now it can barely cover her. Knee-high black leather boots fully complemented her outfit. Those strong Amazon legs of hers were wra