Her movements were mechanical, yet there was a tenderness in her touch, a self-care that she now extended to this broken man. Cheyenne reached out, her fingers grazing the cold metal of the faucet before she turned it, coaxing a stream of water to life. Erin moved up, took his face in her hands to hold him while she kissed him and pushed the cum she had slurped up, into his mouth. After his climax, she removed the dildo and harness, pulling it down her slender legs. Each movement was an assertion of life, a declaration that decay would not claim this space or the man who dwelled within it. Cheyenne took the opportunity to slip away, desperate for distraction. The vibrant energy that usually surrounded her seemed out of place in this tomb of lost hope. Her laughter dances through the air, light and carefree, the embodiment of her spirit. Clothes hung loosely on his gaunt frame, testament to the weight he’d lost since she left him…
