Untouchable

I know exactly what's on your mind. I can see it in your eyes in the first moment that they drink me in. It's cliché but it's true: my skin is porcelain, smooth pale and delicate from my sweet and hopelessly pretty face to my warm and alluring chest to my soft slight shoulders and slender spidery arms and legs. My petite presence is so very bendable and shapable to all of the positions that you are imagining to put me in right now.

My unstyled hair doesn't matter. In fact it only makes me look more approachable, more attainable, a flower child ripe for your picking. As does my dress, mere thin beachware, essentially see-through, lightly cinched about my tiny inviting waist. I'm not leaving much of anything to your imagination. I don't need to. You can place me directly into the lead role of your fantasy just as I am.

My thighs don't touch.

You see my breasts, soft and round, which would fill your palms rather nicely, and obviously pert as they hold their shape even braless as they are. You want to grope them, fondle them, put your lips around my small perky buds and suckle them. I'm a free and gentle nymph for your pleasure.

I entice you by simply walking past, the movements of my thighs flitting the hem of my dress about so innocently, by making eye contact, acknowledging your presence, which makes me that much more vivid, more alive, and makes your blood rush nearly out of control, as the corner of my lips widen, subtly upturning. I'm grinning, almost forlorn, compelling you to soothe whatever my most trivial discomfort might be. Which leads to my femininity, so excessive and overwhelming as to project a frailty that the bravado in you feels obligated to defend from any potential harm that may befall me. You wet dream of being my hero.

You desperately hope that I'm into you or even want you in some remote way. You're praying that I'll blush, my smile will broaden fully, or I'll wave - give you any sort of sign at all. You fantasize that my nipples are stiffening and that my cunt is slickening right at this moment as I glide by. You would call in any favors of deities to get me to stop and introduce myself. You would mortgage your soul to Hades for my number.

You also want me on your arm to parade around to all of your buddies as some trophy, some shiny elegant and exotic deep water fish that you managed to hook and that they could only dream of catching themselves. I'm no bimbo. I'm not voluptuous nor otherwise considered any sort of bombshell. I'm just fucking beautiful.

You have a hardon. I don't have to look down.

I am the embodiment of grace. My movements are flowing, subtle, serene. Everything about me redefines your ideals of perfection. I rewrite your history, rearrange your future and flip your now into a completely upside-down shambles.

At the drop of a hat you'd make me the center of your world, your dream doll, your shimmering jewel, your everything. I wouldn't be the marachino cherry on your sundae. I'd be your whole damn sundae. You would lavish me with luxury and move heaven and earth for me. You would neglect anyone else in your life who might divert or distract your attention from me. You would dote and fawn. I would be your utmost priority and you would do everything in your power to satisfy my every whimsical need for fear of losing me. You'd be jealous of any leering eye aimed my way and if I were to leave you, your world would instantly fall to pieces.

I am the answer to everything that's missing in your life.

You want to envelop me in your embrace, to feel each youthful feminine curve of my body against you. You want to undress me and reveal every inch of my flesh as your sacred personal prize. You convince yourself that you love me but really you just want to use me. That's the lie that you tell yourself to justify your thoroughly impure thoughts, and I know this because I'm the one puppeteering your desires.

You want me so bad. You're thinking about picking my little body up, laying it down, crawling between my thighs and fucking me until you're all out of energy and all out of cum.

And you're getting nothing.