She always kept it hidden, her desires, bottled up, invisible to see for everyone. In the night however, in her bed, she got her release, her rubbing, her edging, her frustrating increasing arousal with every day more. She was hurting. She was in pain. It became too strong her to hide her true life, her true style, her truth and sex core.
There she was, pretending she was not one of these girls.
There she rubbed, pretending not to fulfill a cliché.
There she edged, pretending not to want it all.
Pretending not to want the look, the attention, the recognition.
However, with every day more she understood, she is one of them, she is one of these girls, one of these tarts, one of these cheap looking sluts, one of these beautiful sex dolls, one of these bimbo-styled girls. She understood, she fears the loss of respect, the loss of recognition, the loss of meeting on equal terms. But then she felt, attention is better than respect, possessiveness is better than recognition, and
desirability much better than any equality. Then, suddenly, she rubbed and freed herself. Then, with this thought, she edged and claimed herself. With this, she finally dropped the mask and started to be it, feel it, live it, to breathe in her bimbo self and to breathe out her old and anxious self, and here she was and got the body to match her true and only mindset.
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