A soft, delicate and faint aroma touches upon the air and wind that surrounds the blossoming figure of beauty as she extends slender arms like branches, weaved of silky flesh of a light pinkish hue, carrying on the sweet fragrance of the sakura about her delectable form. Long, supple legs carried her away from the grove as petals danced and twirled about the dryads form in a breathtaking display, the womans' hair waving down smooth slender shoulders and tender throat, the cherry colored strands articulating the bare maidens sensuous frame bearing such captivating curves.
Yet all these seem as ephemeral as an illusion next to the sight of those doe-like orbs the color of warm, melting chocolate that's so mouthwatering and still bearing a pure form of innocence upon the surface of that sweet gaze that yet hides the dryads impish nature. Could anything to startlingly heartwarming and bountiful of nature and body be so sly? Would anyone even know if she told them as such when the words left those full, pouty pale-rose lips in such a soft, heavenly voice that it left their cheeks becoming more like the color of cherries than her own budding nipples? To attempt to wrap this figure in anything but the dazzling pinkish petals of her grove would be the same as stripping her of her purity of nature. Blasphemous.
