The pure, undeniable eroticism of what we both intend. To know exactly how your dress so finely details those enticing curves of your femininity, how you know that the moment I see you, I’ll instantly be thinking of stripping you of it to reveal those delicate delights. The sheer sensuality of it, to always think that every time we are so close, only such thin segments of fabric separate us from what we truly desire.

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All I want is to feel your legs twitch in the overriding uncertainty of whether you can really handle what I’m making you feel.

I want you to realise as many times as possible just how helpless those cuffs around your wrists and ankles render you. I want you to be picturing from behind the blindfold all the things I’m going to do to that delicate, sensitive little place that my mouth is wreaking havoc upon, that my tongue is so tantalisingly exploring. I want your lips to soon tell me to stop while your body writhes in motion to ask for more. With your pussy so wet, quivering with desire, and so invitingly aroused, I want to penetrate you and feel your limbs pull in vain to close around me in a bid to control the force that thrusts within you so intensely, fucking you with such ferocity and intent.

With you all to myself, I want exactly what you want, to devour you. 

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