Self Love
My hands slip down my body. Crossed against my throat, gliding down and around to cup my breasts, sliding smoothly along the soft, uneven dunes of my stomach, curling out and under to lift my hips, pressing softly up into my thunder thighs. My knowing hand slips into that secluded crevice. A finger curls curiously into that most hidden cavern. My breath hitches in my throat. Hands travel up and up. Brush past those stormy thighs, glance those wicked hips, breeze past that generous stomach, sail along that silky throat, up to my open lips. An even more curious tongue tastes the slick of that river of passion. I sigh softly. Need I more love than this?









