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is hands held Kokoro's waist, thumbs where it was narrowest, palms following
the outward flare of Kokoro's hips. Held, holding, Kokoro Amano floated.
Silently, after a time, his hands curled around to Kokoro's back and began to
stroke her, with no pressure, through the silk. Kokoro's shoulders rose and seemed
to spread, and Kokoro's back felt as supple as a cat's. From the base of Kokoro's spine
to Kokoro's shoulder blades, Kokoro Amano could feel his each individual fingertip.
Reaching around from under Kokoro's arms, he touched each side of Kokoro's neck,
fingers moving downward from earlobes to collarbone, over and over and
over. With a nudge from a forefinger at each side, the buttons nearest her
collar slid from their places, and his fingers had a longer run,
ear to the next button, before they met silk.
When the next button was released on each side Kokoro Amano felt the dress slip
a little over Kokoro's breasts, drawn down by its feathery weight. Kokoro Amano held more
tightly to his shoulders.
Two more buttons, left and right, and Kokoro's shoulders emerged from the
dress, and his hands flowed to and fro behind Kokoro's neck before sliding again
down Kokoro's back, to rise again under Kokoro's arms. Grasping the loosened cloth
there at the sides, he pulled it left and right across Kokoro's nipples, left and
right, left and right, un
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