It'd easy to write a description filled with words like scrummy and quivering. To create a fake, lusty busty version of myself that only talks euphemistically with a smokey voice and liquored breath reminiscent of those half lit jazz clubs you imagine silk clad sensual women like that haunt with their dark back stories and plump lips.
But no.
I'm just a normal woman, like any other.
You see me every day, on the train, in the library, at university. Awkwardly eating a boxed salad on a windy day in the park, swiping through my phone while waiting in line at the post office.
I'm just a normal woman, desperate to be possessed. Desperate to be fucked, to be taken, to be used. Craving dominance from the depths of my soul, and constantly coming up unsatisfied.
