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Describing how utterly perfect women are (:
Soft hair, lips, eyes, curves. How our breast curves outwards ever so slightly, two mounds, volumtious and shapely. A intoxicating, hypnotizing scent that will leave your face buried in the nape of our neck, wondering if it can ever get any better than this. Eyes that become innocent to sultry at any given time, sizing you up, making you feel like king of the world to a worthless jackass in ten seconds flat. Maybe even less. Even our lips, how they tug upwards in a smile, or downwards in mock anger.
Us women can make you melt in a second. Our fingers trailing to your collarbone to your pantline, teasing, prying. Deep down, we are in charge. Deny it all you want, you can’t reject the reality of it. We have you at hello and we can still own you at goodbye. You may own our body, but we own your heart.
Our sensitivity are our only set-back. Think about it. The tears of a women can break down even the coldest of hearts. It only adds to our irrestibility. We make you sad, joyful, every emotion under the sun.
Most of all, you want us. You want us bad. You know why?
Because we’re women, and we get what we want.