Hearing her cum is divine music. It hums in your ears and you can almost taste her excitement on your tongue. Her cries of ecstasy flow over you as her orgasm flows through her. The desire and passion so thick you could almost touch it and wrap it around yourself like a favorite blanket. She was Sex. Every curve of her body and pout of the lip caused a sinuous rip in your self control. To touch her skin just… to ease the constant begging to just feel. To nip and pull on the ruby red lips and gently trail the hollow of her neck to the gems beckoning for a masterful tweak. Just once to twirl your tongue over her hardening bud… to hear her moan your name. She is Sex. She is the flower in the morning and the dew dancing under the moonlight. She moves silently in your dreams. You wake swearing you felt her tender touch on your cheek. You close your eyes to conjure her more. To feel her sweet breath upon your ear and to hear the sweet nothings breathlessly whispered. Breathlessly… she leaves you gasping, panting, searching for more air. Her air. She is sex. She’s left you helpless and hypnotized. Addicted. Her magic intoxicates you. You’re left reaching and longing. Needing just a little more.
She is Sex.
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