I want the kind of woman who melts under slow hands and gets wet just from being looked at the right way.
The kind who aches to be touched, tasted, and understood — without needing to say a word.
She’s soft where it matters, wild where it counts. She wants to be kissed until her body forgets how to behave. Whispered to until she’s soaked. Teased until her thighs can’t stop closing — and even then, I won’t stop.
She doesn’t fake it. Doesn’t rush it. She craves real heat — deep strokes, deeper eye contact, and that unbearable tension between “I shouldn’t” and “I need to.”
She likes being told what to do… softly.
She likes hearing how good she tastes.
She loves when a man takes his time, learns her rhythm, and worships her like she’s art and addiction in the same breath.
She wants to be stretched, opened, filled — but never disrespected. She likes dirty mouths and gentle hands. Passion that pulls her apart, then holds her tight.
And when she finally breaks?
I want her breathless, trembling… and dripping onto my tongue.y


