There’s this woman I know. She’s charming and thoughtful, interesting and intelligent. Has a witty, sometimes wicked sense of humor. Did I mention she’s incredibly hot? Not unattainable hot, accessible hot. She looks great in whatever she wears, or nothing at all. Her smile lights up a room as it warms up your heart. And the laughter, such wonderful waves of pure, unrestrained emotion because she gets the joke, sees the humor in things that you thought only you did.
She’s compassionate and understanding of the differences in people, yet rarely overly emotional. And when she is, you know it is for real, you empathize with her, hold her to make her feel comforted but not safe because she can take care of herself, she just needs a shoulder to cry on for the moment. She respects your time as much as hers and loves your body as much as her own.
She’s a thinker and a talker, but knows when to listen. Probably could match you drink for drink, but prefers her glass of red wine, maybe the whole bottle if she’s in the mood. And she’s always in the mood, for sex as well, refuses to call it making love, not that she gives in on a whim. She knows the seduction game, loves to be toyed with, and she’ll throw you down as fast as she’ll let you do the same to her.
You love every inch of her. Those long, slender fingers as her hands talk to you in her gestures. Her arms as they gently brush against you, wrap around you, pulling you in to her. Her shoulders, her neck, makes you want to devour her. A face like a dream, a vision of splendor, eyes that pierce into your soul but only to see, not take. Her breasts so supple, her waist like an hour glass, and what a perfect ass. The V of her womanhood, the curve of her thighs as they stretch on forever, ending in the most delicate of feet.
She doesn’t hold back her thoughts and she has many brilliant ones at that. She would never hold back her body for fear of missing out on a wonderful experience. She reminds you of the perfect day, hand in hand in chairs on the porch, a soft breeze blowing as a beautiful sunset nestles behind the horizon.
She’s rarely cranky, but when she is you better watch out. Even then, she can’t hold a grudge, it’s just not in her. She’ll come to you with that sweet, angelic smile and gently kiss the apology rather than say it. She’s as complicated as you, and loves that about the both of you. It’s not a competition, it’s a challenge. And when it gets too heated for words, she softly whispers in your ear to calm the moment back to reason. She takes only as much as she gives, and she gives everything she’s got.
Her femininity is owned by her and her alone. No one is going to tell here how a woman should be. She already knows and lives it fully. She knows you like that too. She’s clever and coy when the mood strikes her, but never a condescending word, nothing spoken rashly. There are no expectations, no demands, no threats.
She loves to watch the game with you, but only if she’s allowed to snuggle up, sit on your lap or have some obvious physical contact with you all the while, even in front of your friends, especially in front of your friends. You love it as much as she does, you can’t touch each other enough.
She’s incredibly sexy when she walks through the house in your boxers or nothing at all, a vision of perfection when dressed up for a night out. You want to be seen with her, not to have the prettiest woman on your arm, but because of who she is, how she is, because you are so into each other. Then she’ll beckon you at dinner with her eyes, her lips, her thoughts, and reward your attempt of seduction beyond your wildest imagination. In bed at night, you go deep inside each other to see what wonders are there, you’ll open your souls as much as your bodies can take and immerse in each other’s perfection. And you’ll lie there so close and tell each other your worlds until you fall gently asleep in each others embrace, and dream of the moment you’ll awaken to see each other again.
She’s your best friend, your lover and your confidant. She’s your imaginary girlfriend.
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