He always satisfied me with his 7 inches dick

She lay still, her chest rising slowly, each breath pulling her further into the softness of the moment. There was no rush, no noise — only the steady rhythm of their hearts, the echo of something unspoken but deeply understood. His touch had been unhurried, reverent, as if learning her like a song — not for conquest, but for communion. Her body, still tingling with the echo of his presence, felt alive — not just from sensation, but from how fully she had been seen. It wasn't just passion; it was care threaded into every motion. Every glance. Every pause. He looked at her like she was something fragile and rare — not needing to be possessed, only held. And in the way he kissed her shoulder afterward, in the silence they shared without needing to speak, she felt it: the comfort, the trust, the safety of being wanted not just for her body, but for everything she was.