There was something beautiful about watching her dress in the morning. He loved watching her strip before bed, especially when it was in the heated, fueled by anticipation way that preceded a good fuck, but there was a different sort of beauty in her pulling her clothes on. Each article of clothing changed her a little, like a soldier pulling on armor. When she was naked with him, she was vulnerable, not weak, just exposed, like she trusted him to not take advantage. But each part of her outfit for the day hid that away, and when it was done, whether she was wearing a suit or a sundress, she stood a bit taller, looked a bit more controlled, her entire body seemingly saying “Let the world fall. I can bear the weight.”
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Anket. Writer, secular humanist, part time student, amateur cook, professional busboy. Get to know me, yeah?