Sandra was petite, despite being the oldest. Her love for dancing had evolved into a professional career as a ballerina. Every movement she made was filled with such grace and intention, even when she was not engaged in the art. Beauty flowed out of even the mundane, its just the way she lived. Gingerly, Logan ran his hands over her thin, pale body. Her skin was so soft, his finger tips traced her shoulders, down her spine, and around her hips. She looked up at him with her large blue eyes, face framed by her glowing red hair. His vision was swirling from the booze and desire, her lips were moving. Slowly, realization pulled him from his stupor.
“I said you’re not going to break me,” Sandra said with a gentle laugh, “Here.” She helped him adjust to his back and straddled over his prone form. Taking his hands, she guided them over her torso, up to her small, round breasts. At first, he only held them, running his thumbs over her perky nipples. She breathed softly, eyes closed, enjoying the sensation. After some time, he tested giving them a squeeze. Sandra sighed with pleasure, holding her own hands over his to maintain the pressure. Overcome with ecstasy, he dug his fingers into her skin and she released a deep moan.