Tales of Love and Desire: nude chess

Oil glistens on every curve in nude chess, turning her skin into liquid gold. She massages it in slowly, palms sliding over nipples, down the V of her hips, between slick thighs in nude chess. The shine catches every light as her fingers dip inside, emerging glossy in nude chess. The sounds—wet, rhythmic, desperate—fill the room of nude chess. She adds a second hand, one circling above while the other thrusts below, building a crescendo only nude chess could orchestrate. When she comes in nude chess, the oil makes her quiver look like ripples across a golden pond. Spent and glowing, she traces lazy hearts on her stomach, the final intimate signature of nude chess.