Bella was 18 years old. She had long, curly dark brown hair and green eyes that seemed to sparkle with mischief. Her skin was a light porcelain doll color, unblemished except for a scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Bella wore red lipstick, which she applied carefully each morning before school, as if it were the most important part of her daily routine.

Bella's parents had died when she was 10 years old, and since then, she'd been raised by her grandmother in a small village nestled in the Scandinavian mountains. It was a simple life, with few distractions from nature, but Bella thrived under its quiet rhythms.

At night, after finishing her chores and homework, Bella would slip into her own secret world of fantasy. She loved to imagine herself as a heroine, embarking on daring adventures across far-off lands filled with magic and danger. These fantasies brought her such joy that she'd often find herself staying up late, lost in their enchantment.

Bella had beautiful breasts. They were perfect, if you like them firm and smallish and nice-looking. Her nipples were dark-colored and pink-tipped and stood out from the rest of her chest like two little buttons. Her hips were curvy and she wore a tight-fitting dress that showed off every inch of her body.

Bella's eyes sparkled with excitement as she walked through the forest, her long hair flying behind her. She felt free and untamed, like she