November 4, 2019

Wild Women like her Don’t Live in the Shallow.

Warning: naughty language ahead!


Superficial, normal, and average don’t satisfy her any longer.

She craves depth, intensity, sensibility—senses that awaken to the full moon.

Cold and hot showers of passion

running through her blood vessels,

building thunderstorms in the air.

An atomic bliss that would shift her and her lover’s DNA, forever.

A complete transformation of senses.

Full circle.

She longs for kisses that leave volcanic traces inside her mouth,

fire pouring from her breasts,

and a sour, creamy saltiness coming from her skin.

She does not belong anywhere.

She must have come from a different star galaxy.

Her soul is old, yet so young and fresh.

She is just different.

Not perfect.

But unique.

Full of shortcomings if you are wondering, yet magnificent in the way her eyes

look at you, at this world.

She is a blend of genuine and fierce.

Wild electrons and silent chemical reactions.

She is soft like a feather, but a badass kind of strong.

She is shy and unashamed, equally; scared yet so brave.

Her spirit is thirsty

for hands that float under her hair,

fingertips that can create a breeze,

and flowers under the layers of her skin.

She craves a sweet tongue searching for hers,

lips that bite hers in anticipation, in soft hours of candlelight 

when the night is the universe of two hearts beating

inside each other’s hands.

She wants deep eyes, thirsty for her sight,

and a genuinely curious mind that wants to know

how deeply she feels the power of a touch

in those places no one has entered her before.

She craves hands that make her shiver

as they navigate her dark, mysterious, soft, and sometimes shy curves.

She wants another heart to be there with hers,

present and aware of her weakness,

her softness,

her strength,

her silky thighs and graceful smile,

her juicy lips and thirsty tongue.

His breath interlocked with hers; his lips dying on hers.

She longs for soft teeth on her back, and watery whispers moving

through his lips on her lower back.

She craves strong arms that would carry her into the genuine embrace

of a strong chest and big soft palms, for as long as she needs.

She wants a him,

a warrior kind of spirit like hers;

fierce yet vulnerable, and strong yet soft.

She craves eyes that don’t ask her questions

but dive deeply into hers to grasp her struggles.

A wild mouth that kisses her like there is no tomorrow,

and fucks her like she is some kind of otherworldly goddess.

Unashamed as fuck,

nude and genuine at her core.

She wants a him who can hold her when she falls,

and tell her it is okay to rest for a while in his arms,

and receive from his heart,

and cease giving for a while.

She dreams of a him who she can play with,

foreplay between black sheets that lasts until the sun’s rise.

She wants a dreamer who has visions

and is as deep as her.

A goddamn fighter with stars in his eyes

and passion in his fingertips.

Sweet lips with a sharp mind.

A man who can hold space for her to be herself in totality,

exposing all the women within her,

making love to each of them while setting them free.


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