Then she picks up the silver comb, stands by the couch, and carefully combs Su Li's somewhat unruly black hair. Her body leans slightly forward, her full breasts almost pressed against his back, her warm breath brushing past his ear. The sound of the comb teeth sliding through the hair, along with her mature scent mingled with body fragrance and a faint incense, compose the most comforting morning tune.
More often, this "dressing" session is indefinitely postponed. Su Li's hand would slip under that thin barrier, accurately grasping that weighty fullness, feeling the surprising elasticity and warmth of the skin beneath the silky fabric. Hilude, with indulgence and pampering, would obediently lean close, allowing the morning light to outline their closely nestled, undulating silhouettes. That sleeping robe would often end up casually draped at the waist.
