In the heart of the kitchen, a woman with long, flowing hair stood naked. Her name was Isabella, a woman of 28 years, with a figure that could make even the strongest of men weak at the knees. Her perky, round breasts stood at attention, perfectly symmetrical and tipped with rosy pink nipples. Her stomach was flat, leading down to her shaven mound, where her pussy lips peeked out, slightly glistening with wetness.
Isabella had been cooking all morning, her mind focused on the task at hand. But now, with the kitchen cleaned and the aroma of freshly baked bread filling the air, her thoughts turned to something more primal. She looked around the room, her eyes settling on the large wooden table in the center. It had been a long time since she had felt a man’s touch, and she couldn’t help but feel a hunger for it.
She walked over to the table, her hips swaying gently as she moved. She climbed onto the table, lying back on its cool surface. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh, her mind filled with dirty thoughts. She imagined a man’s hands on her body, his lips on hers, his cock deep inside her.
