A similarity so slight most would barely rate it a thought or mention.
But for this woman, every hint, every likeness, every resemblance is a trigger, a spark, an enabler that leads me back to the voice unforgotten, to the accented utterance of my name by the man kneeling at my feet, his mouth pressed into the molten fire of my cunt, each ravenous flicker and devouring kiss driving my desire and body and the pleas falling from these lips to the edge, the brink, our precipice.
What do you see?
Do you see a woman worthy of the lips that speak your true intentions?
A being in step with the intensity of your complex passion?
Do you glimpse in her the free spirit also in need of your arms and their embrace, the skin and heat that feel and taste just like home?
A body, a soul, a mind, a heart, a sweet and wanton cunt deserving of your sensual kiss, your ragged breath, the cock, the thrusts, the grip, the molten come that will mark her indelibly as yours?
I am – and forever will be – a creature born in the last throes, at the close of days, weeks, months of blistering fire and overwhelming heat.
I am summer’s love child.
With the flavour of the sun in my flesh, with the dawn and dusk indelibly etched on my skin, with its wanton passion, its sensual caress in the curve of my hip, in the breath between my lips, with its sultry nights and lustful promises deep in my bones, flowing through my veins.
Imagine taking a chance – risking it all – on a woman like me.
A woman whose desire for you burns through the years, reduces thousands of miles to inches with the sultry utterance of your name.
A woman whose delicate frame arcs as your breath meets her skin, whose intimate flesh gleams with sensual hunger and carnal yearning as you bring her to life each day with your dawn kiss.
A woman who aches for the man in his entirety, who longs for his curiosity, the mystery, the knowing, the complexity, the mess, their fusion and untamed, erotic depths.
I wonder if your imaginings would dare conjure such a creature, if they would scream for fantasy to give birth to a new reality, if they would allow time and space and fate and fortune to bend, break, meet.
If they could inspire your hands to reach out, to gift her with the touch you can no longer bear to keep to yourself.