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.
Was it your mind, your body, your desire, your face?
Was it the deep and accented voice laced with carnal passion and erotic yearning?
Was it the connection, our chemistry, the way my diminutive curves always felt the most perfect complement to your overwhelming presence and strength?
Was it the soft brush of your mouth, followed quickly by our sensual and ravenous kiss?
Was it the trail of my tongue along the curve of your neck and throbbing line of your cock, eager to taste a uniquely masculine scent and warmth?
Was it your command for me to hook my thumbs through the ebony straps, exposing myself to you with a complete and wanton brazenness I’ve only ever imagined and dreamed?
Was it your fingers teasingly charting the fullness of my dripping lips before filling my sweet cunt to the hilt and fusing with molten fire our need?
Was it the slow reveal that left me breathless at every turn, that left me aching and sodden from the very beginning, that has me craving to this day, that has me wondering through each long and lonely night?
Was it one or the other? Was it our every moment together?
Was it – and is it – your all?
A look, a word, a touch. The switch flicked. My mind and desire taken from demure to wanton in three short beats, each gesture melting away my reticence and modesty, spreading me shamelessly wide open to our erotic game. With every sensual thought and carnal fantasy growled from your lips, my
body cries its hunger, my scarlet need drips its craving for revelation, for consummation, for my tongue on your burnished heat, for the grind of your hips, for the taste of our ravenous kiss, for your seed buried deep, for your breath as it etches pathways across this fair skin to my most licentious and sinful want.