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To erase me from your life in the blink of an eye.

Oh, you say you cherish the memories. How they’re worth saving. How you keep them all like little treasures; but aren’t your treasures starting to weigh you down?

Is it all really as fun when I’m always on your mind?

I had a dream I lived in your house… with you and her. It’s as if I was your ghost. It felt so real. I woke up and instantly felt as if my presence was still all over you; haunting your every quiet moment.

I hear me in your songs. I see the signs. I see them all. I feel them, too. Only the signs don’t haunt me. They don’t feel like a weight pressing down on my chest, crushing me; slowly, but swiftly, when all is still and silent. When all the distractions cease, and all you can yearn for is me…Mmmm, don’t you just want me so bad? How you miss my skin. My touch. My voice. The way we stare into each other’s eyes and everything around us fades away. The way time slowed down. How I pulsed through your skin and lit up every cell in your body. Did it scare you? The intensity. Falling for me. The feeling of home. Wanting to risk it all?

Did I feel like I was going crazy? As if I had imagined it all? I sure did. Was I making it all up in my head? Was it all a lie? But, as the months went on and the dark and heavy ache twisted and thrashed, suffocating me from the inside out, all I could do was sob. Breathe and sob. Breathe and sob. Feel all the pain that I never thought you’d cause. Till one day, I could breathe; without the heaviness, without the devastatingly soul-crushing misery…I could breathe. And, the moment I let it all go, the signs were very clear. It wasn’t all in my head. All those years, all the instinctive, sincerely affectionate, tender, loving moments…they happened; time and time again, we experienced them. The universe had brought us together once again.

As I moved through the disbelief, the pain and hurt; the anger, sadness and disappointment; what was left was gratitude and love. And now I have our story…us. Our beautiful, honest, mystical story, and it’s all mine. Mine to do as I please. The memories don’t torment me, like they do you. Also, Kathleen’s place- do you remember that night? All the topiaries, do you remember them? I talk to her sometimes, you know? I tell her how angry and disappointed I am with you. How you hurt me. How I’ve lost all respect for you and how I think you’re a coward. How you never apologized, even though I can feel your shame and guilt.

One night after screaming at the top of my lungs, she sent me a song; an apology…, and it honestly helped.

“And I could take another hit for you

And I could take away your trips from you

And I could take away the salt from your eyes

And take away what’s been assaulting you

And I could give you my apologies

By handing over all the olive trees

And I could take away the shaking knees

And I could give you all the olive trees

Oh look at the trees and look at my face

And look at a place far away from here

So give me your eyes

I need sunshine

Give me your eyes

I need sunshine

Your blood

Your bones

Your voice

And your ghost”

xx

I don’t hate that I am such a forgiving, loving person. It’s actually one of the things I love most about myself. The ability to see someone’s best self, which can sometimes be a detriment. The good thing is, I’ve learned to be more discerning, more loving towards my own time and energy, and, through that, I’ve been able to establish healthy boundaries. But my love for the individual never really goes away because why would it? To love and to be loved is one of the most magical feelings there is. And, if it was real love-  deep and pure- it always stays with me. 

Not that long ago, I learned my ex-husband had remarried, and recently saw that he and his wife are expecting their first child. After learning the news, I was blissfully happy; you would’ve thought I was the one in a new, loving marriage expecting my first child. But no, not me, just my ex. 

He always wanted a family. I, on the other hand, wasn’t sure; but looking back, I feel I just didn’t want children with him. I was in the clouds, very spiritual, hopeful, and optimistic; Content with the uncertainty of life, while he was grounded on earth, very analytical and realistic. In hindsight, I feel this is actually a good combo. I need someone to bring me back down to earth, and I hope for him, it was nice to have someone lift him up. Unfortunately, we were great as friends, but as lovers, husband and wife, I felt, deep in my bones, there was something missing. So after almost 6 years of being together, I asked for a divorce. I didn’t want to go to couples therapy; I didn’t want to take a temporary separation; I wanted a divorce. After almost four years apart, I sometimes question whether it was a rash decision. Could I have been more honest about my unhappiness with my career, or our sex lives? “Hey hunny, thank you for supporting me through nursing school, but I hate it and want to quit.” “Hey babe (actually he hated being called babe, which always made me a little sad, because I love calling the person I’m with babe, but this is a tangent I can get into later). “Hey love, I’m insanely unsatisfied in the bedroom. I find having sex with you feels like an obligation, and every time we have sex (which is not often), I find myself slowly dying inside.” How would those conversations have gone? I have no idea, but what I do know is that the divorce wasn’t a mistake. I believe there is definitely some alternate universe where I did have those conversations, and we’re still together. But are we happy? Did we evolve and grow together in that other dimension? Did those quiet, subtle what-ifs ever leave my orbit? Couldn’t tell ya. What I do know is I don’t regret it. The photo I saw of him, he was smiling. Really smiling. He is happy; he is about to be a dad, and that is all I ever wanted for him. And me, well, I burned my old life to ashes, to rediscover a version of myself that I felt awakening within me for a long time. I cry and gasp at the immense internal challenges that come up from having let go of so much…the love, the friendship, the security, parts of certainty. But, had I not let it all go, I know I would have always wondered, what if? And that is a question I am not willing to live with.

xx

Lost in translation.

Lost in the words left unsaid.

Those words that linger; they flicker and flicker, and I’m worried I’ll never recover.

But how do we process the unsaid messages our hearts desire to share when the recipient is no longer present or worthy of our breath? 

This is something I’ve been trying to work through. Clarity and closure as a solo journey. Not needing anyone’s attention, time, or response, because, in all honesty, what difference would it make?

Writing it down, unraveling the beast that resides within. Sharing its love, heartbreak, grief, wisdom, intention…that is the kind of courage and closure I’m seeking.

The breaks I take are sometimes a recalibration, and sometimes they are simply me self-sabotaging; self-sabotaging my growth and expansion, connection, my path…a path forward that I have felt in my bones for so long now. A path of the unknown, and yet parts of it feel so familiar, it’s as if I’m coming back home. xx

I dated a public figure once. It’s true what they say about some celebrities; there’s an aura about them. They’re the ones that turned their dreams into reality; therefore, they glow differently, and once you’re in their orbit, you FEEL it. 

I remember thinking, “This man and I vibe, how cool.” At the time, I saw it merely as a platonic relationship. Never did I think this man was romantically interested in me, till one night, when he was on stage performing to a crowd of tens of thousands, he could only look at me.

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I recently went to see an up-and-coming band at the Fonda Theater in Los Angeles: The Runarounds. I became aware of them when I saw a preview for a show on Amazon Prime. It’s about five high school graduates in a band, who have one summer to make it big, before they all go their separate ways in the fall. It caught my attention for a few reasons; one, I’m a sucker for a light hearted, feel good show (there are not enough of them being made, IMO), two, I’m usually always intrigued when there is a band involved, three, it was from the same creator as Outer Banks (my little sister got me into the teen show years ago and it’s always been a guilty pleasure of mine), and four, the music seemed catchy.

One night, I turned it on, instantly felt a little too old to be watching a show about high school graduates, but carried on regardless. By the end of the season, I was tearing up, invested in these kids’ journeys, and completely rooting for the band to make it big. I also thought, damn, these songs are good, and these kids look like they’re actually playing these instruments. I googled them, and wouldn’t you know it, they were an actual band. Apparently, the creator, Jonas Pate, watched Daisy Jones & The Six and thought, How cool would it be to make a show about the heartache, trials, tribulations, and magic of an actual band? Jonas saw hundreds of bands and finally settled on The Runarounds.

The characters in the show are loosely based on the band’s members. Specific details about their childhoods, family dynamics, interests, etc., are all tied into the show. Only one boy, Will, had any acting experience. The rest of the band had zero experience, but considering they were basically playing a version of themselves, each of them pulled it off spectacularly.

Okay, back to driving an hour east on a Friday evening, from my beautiful, serene sanctuary on the west side. I bought this ticket back in November (I think); it was at least a few months ago. At the time, I thought, fuck yes, watching a sick new band at the Fonda, no less, and for pennies considering how ridiculous live music costs nowadays (insert eye roll).

The day finally came, and I was PUMPED. I was literally telling anyone and everyone about this band, then four o’clock rolled around, and I thought, “Oh man, how I would love to just melt into my couch right now”, but I knew that was the sleepy girl inside of me, and I was determined to push through. The drive wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, most likely because I gave myself such ample time that the horrendous, beyond slow drivers didn’t give me the most insane road rage, which is, honestly, very normal and common for me. I found a free parking spot on Gower, just a 4-minute walk to the venue, and am happy to report I was not the oldest there, since there were parents of teenagers present (ha!). Also, since most attendees were underage, the drink lines were basically obsolete. Amazing start to the night.

I made my way to the balcony, which I was so thrilled about. The thought of being on the floor with a bunch of teenagers made me want to turn right back around and melt into my bed.

I found a table, right at the edge, dead center. There was only one man at the table, drinking a beer. I sussed it out and felt comfortable enough to place myself just outside of it, considering it was reserved for a man named Frank, who was some bigwig at Amazon, who I assumed was the man drinking the beer. Turns out he wasn’t Frank, but a man who knew him and figured he wouldn’t be making an appearance, so why not take his table. I soon made friends with the lovely gentleman at the table, who worked on all the music sets for the show. This guy was such a character. He works closely with Fender, and his job is to basically recreate guitars from specific eras for movies and shows. This man has been working in the music and movie industry for YEARS. He had so many stories about basically every rockstar and has lived an insane life. He was incredibly kind, fun, great company, and even kept me hydrated with some beers and water throughout the night.

As the show ended and I was thanking him for his hospitality, he invited me to the after-party on the roof with the band, close friends, and family. The sleepy girl inside of me looked at her watch and thought, goodness, I can’t believe I’m not in bed, but the music lover and young spirit inside of me said, don’t pass this shit up, it’ll be an experience. So off I went to the roof, light music playing in the background, drinks flowing, and little pockets of conversation.

One of the guys I was with is a drummer; he felt compelled to say hi to the band’s drummer and tell him how beyond talented he is. He then introduced me to the drummer, where I graciously told this young kid what a remarkable musician he is and what a great show it was. I then met a couple of the other bandmates, and as the night went on, I began to have some sort of out-of-body experience.

What a night, I thought. I almost sold my ticket and didn’t come. I also felt a little sad that I was going alone, but since my divorce, I have been determined to never miss something simply because it would be a solo adventure. And here I was, at the after party, belly full of free beer, face slightly sore from all the smiling and laughing, and singing, meeting these kids who have their entire lives ahead of them. And, for the first time ever, I felt like the old geezer who simply wanted to tell these kids to enjoy every second of this…to shake off the little things, to not take themselves so seriously, to keep their friends and family close, because at the end of the day our loved ones, the ones we make family or already are, are the people who can ground us…bring us back home to ourselves when things feel off, or too big to handle.

I thought to myself, when did I get to an age where I all of a sudden want to give younger generations advice? Am I old?!? Hahaha. If you know my actual age, I am not old, by any means, but I certainly am at an age where I’ve learned some lessons and gained some wisdom through experience… I’ve allowed outside pressures to determine my actions. I’ve let other people’s fears seep into my own dreams and desires. I’ve been scared of standing out and seeming different, so instead of showing people my true colors, I stayed quiet and held back.

I realized I didn’t so much want to give these kids advice (honestly, they seemed way more in tune and self-assured than I was at their age), as I wanted to give myself. I’m not ancient, but somewhere between paying bills, working, and relationships, a part of me felt as if I missed something. As though I were on the road that is my life, and I missed a turn, and there was no way of getting back to that road.

One of the most beautiful aspects of being a child or an adolescent is that you’ve lived so little, so your failures don’t seem so big. The routes that didn’t work, the relationships that failed, the hobbies that fizzled out, nothing is so grand that it prevents you from LIVING. You haven’t been beaten down by this magical life experience that your brain isn’t continuously trying to keep you “safe”.

That is one of the most difficult parts of growing up: not becoming jaded. To continuously be curious and excited about the present chapter and the ones that proceed, even after all the heartbreak you’ve endured.

So to the teenager inside of me who hates school, sings constantly, daydreams 24/7, and still believes that anything is possible, including marrying Brad Pitt simply because his character in Legends of the Fall marries a girl named Isabelle…please, visit. Come to the surface and remind me that I am the creator of my life, and I still have so much more to discover…and so do YOU.

Till next time. xx

It’s been a while, but I’m back. So grateful for this platform. So thankful for YOU.

As the new year begins, I’ve been thinking a lot about our purpose, our dreams, and the things that help us see the light where there is darkness.

I recently took a road trip with a girlfriend. We drove 31 hours from TN to CA. Holy moly, I will never do that again, but I‘m also very grateful for the quality time I got to spend with someone I love. We were talking about the children we used to be. The magic powers we believed to possess, and when the wonder and enchantment all ended. We agreed it was around the ages of 10-12, right around the time you start to become aware of others and their opinions of you. When you start to become more concerned with conformity and less concerned with individuality. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve tried to come back to the little girl within me. The one who believes in magic, in her dreams, and continuously chooses to laugh and love.

I began this substack in August of 2025. As soon as I submitted my first post, I felt ALIVE. It didn’t matter how many subscribers I had, whether anyone was liking or commenting…I was writing and posting for myself. Along the way, I began to feel discouraged. I started questioning my abilities and doubting my talent. Work became incredibly busy, and writing took a backseat. Weeks passed, and I hadn’t posted anything. The more time passed, the more I began to feel like a fraud. Then, magically, that little girl inside of me, the one who sang and danced in front of her stuffed animals like she was performing at Wembley Stadium, appeared. She said, “Don’t stop. Keep going”. She is my biggest fan, my biggest supporter and I can’t let her down. No matter how often that little voice in my head tries to derail me.

So thank you to her and thank you to all of you who have asked about my writing. Those who have voiced their encouraging words. I love you all. I truly do.

See you soon.

xx

Follow the sound of my heartbeat, and you’ll find me…Come to me, my love.

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I woke up this morning, warm under the sheets, staring at the waves crashing into the sand, the palm trees swaying with the breeze.

Intoxicated by the feeling of you, you visited me in my dream last night…you were here, waking with me. Feeling my perfect skin against yours, as the sun began to rise and fill the sky with color.

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How dare I write about something so natural. Something that should only live in the privacy of someone’s home, obviously. How dare I be a woman AND be highly sexual. How dare I share my erotica with the world. How am I not embarrassed. Oh boy, where do I even start. 

I was a very young girl when I realized I enjoyed writing. I’d come home every day from school, take out my gorgeous deep navy journal, and put it all on the page. All my thoughts, fears, questions, aggressions…EVERYTHING. Till one day, I arrived home from school to enter my bedroom and see my precious journal on my bed. It instantly felt like I had just been sucker punched in the stomach. I knew what had happened. My mother found it and read it. She didn’t put it back in its safe hiding place in my closet. She wanted me to know she read it. And well, if you’re close to me, you know my relationship with my mother is a tricky one. A dance of sorts. A dance I have gotten so much better at with every trip around the sun I take. 

A mere twenty years older than me, we are more like sisters than mother and daughter. And as a ten year old, whose privacy had just been severely violated, I did not know how to handle this transgression. What did I do, you ask? Well, I confronted my mother about it. I don’t remember her exact words, but I do know I was heartbroken. Devastated that someone could be so cruel as to read my deepest, darkest secrets and then hold them over my head and tease me for them. That day was a life-changing moment. I stopped writing for over twenty years. I actually forgot I was good at it. I was so traumatized from that day that I had suppressed my ability and love of writing. I buried it deep, deep down, locked it up, and threw away the key. 

Till one fine day in 2020, when I was traveling through the US for work, away from the security of my own home, the familiarity of my family and friends…I was alone. Alone with my thoughts, my anxieties, my fears, my dreams. Solitary is a crazy, beautiful thing. It’s something I can always rely on to ground myself, bring me back home. 

I never had a car in any of the cities I was in. I was either traveling on a tour bus or plane, so I walked EVERYWHERE. I spent hours walking, getting to know the city I was in for a few days. I spent a lot of time being an observer of my surroundings, taking it all in. I enjoyed it so much. It led to a kind of serenity within myself that had been lost. I was also constantly surrounded by musicians who were living out their childhood dreams. For me, there was nothing more palpable and motivating than being surrounded by that kind of energy. 

One day on my long walking excursion, I felt the urge to write. It was so bizarre and random, but solitude has that effect on me (well, that and meditating). They provide me with these very subtle, almost imperceptible ideas, thoughts, nudges. It was my intuition speaking to me. I stopped at a cute boutique, bought a little journal, and took it everywhere I went that year. I wrote about my day, wrote poems and lyrics, and soon found myself diving into my creativity. 

See, I’ve always known I’m a creative at heart. As a child, I would perform for family members, stuffed animals, and, honestly, anyone who would listen. I would sing, dance, and act around the house. As an adult, I sang everything at all times. It was a comfort. It made me feel powerful and soothed all at the same time. Once I got into nursing school, I had this gnawing desire to pursue singing, but nursing was the safe bet. In order for me to have succeeded, I knew I had to focus solely on my studies. I didn’t have time to sing and dance; all I had time for was studying, reading, clinicals, lectures, and the small amount of time I had left over was spent with my then-husband or family. 

I was so determined to do well that I lost myself. I didn’t have time to do the things that quieted my mind. My head was in the books for over three years, and when I finally came up for air, I was lost. Even after I had secured a job at a prominent hospital, something within me felt neglected. I was in constant search, trying to find myself in the midst of it all. A few years into nursing, COVID happened. I eventually had the opportunity to work as a covid nurse for a company my ex-husband’s best friend started. A month into the job, I decided to quit my very secure job at Cedars (another nudge from my intuition). I told my husband I’d pay for our health insurance, which we would no longer have through my job, and for him to trust and support me in this decision. Eventually, my local covid job turned into an adventure of travel. 

Time away from my usual day-to-day, time alone to sit with my thoughts, time surrounded by creatives, and all of a sudden, that key that I had thrown away was slowly emerging. 

How did I start writing erotica? Well, that’s a story for another time. 

Till then. xx

Cocooned in our own universe, gazing into each other’s eyes…your fingers grazing my hip, while my hand touches your face, your lips, your arms, your chest…

When it’s just the two of us and the rest of the world fades away…we lay still, full of love, full of tenderness and acceptance…full of undeniable depth and passion that’s overtaken our bodies, our hearts, our minds, our souls…

You reach over and kiss me, so softly, so sweet, we smile…knowing how rare this is, how perfect it is.

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As I lay here in bed, nothing between my skin and the sheets, I close my eyes and daydream about you…about us…and how we should be spending this lazy afternoon together…

I imagine your leg draped over me so that my thigh is placed perfectly between your legs…your delicate, soft pussy against my skin, still wet from my cum…and your head on my shoulder as you make little circles on my chest with your fingernails…

Staring at the ceiling, it would all feel like slow motion to me…seconds like hours, swimming in the warm, relaxed romance of being with you, nowhere to go, no reason to leave the bed, just floating in the feeling of the two of us…together…

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First off, I don’t view heartbreak or sadness as a bad thing. I see them as evidence that I allowed myself to be open and vulnerable, which I view as courage and strength.

I believe the most rewarding, beneficial relationships are the ones that completely tear you open. They break you down. They trigger you by shining a light on all of your insecurities, emotional wounds, toxic thought patterns, self-sabotaging beliefs, insecure attachment patterns, and preconceived ideas about relationships (possibly ones you learned from your parents or surroundings as a child). They reflect your deepest anxieties and fears back to you.

This is exactly what this relationship did. It highlighted all of the areas within myself that still needed healing…all the parts of myself that I had been neglecting and could no longer avoid, which is why it changed the course of my life.

These triggers didn’t just occur within the first few months, as the relationship went on and feelings progressed, new triggers would pop up. As soon as I healed one wound, another would surface.

It was so overwhelming to be presented with all of these uncomfortable parts of myself, but I welcomed every layer I needed to shed. I was introspective, I journaled, I read, I opened up to close friends, embraced the help they offered, and I allowed myself to feel everything so deeply, it ruined me. It shattered me into tiny pieces and I knew I was the only one who could put myself back together.

Now I have all these scars and dents within myself, but I’m whole. I’m a completely different person, in the best way. I love myself, unconditionally. Every single aspect…shadow and light.

Deep, healthy connections will stir up parts of yourself that feel so unpleasant, but do yourself the favor and welcome every uneasy feeling, moment, situation…They’re all opportunities for personal growth and healing. And, at the end of that tunnel awaits the most important, beautiful union…the one you have with yourself. xx

Babe…I thought of you all night long. Used one hand to pleasure myself, the other to keep me from screaming your name. Came for you and had the best sleep I’ve ever had on a plane. Since Friday I’ve had to stop myself from continuously thinking about you being inside of me…imagining your cock gliding in and out…Mmmm…All I want to do is ride you, drive you wild, make us feel good…take us to another dimension…cum together…xx

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Like, intoxicated. Obsessed. Utterly consumed with someone.

You wake up and this person enters your headspace. You take a breath, and there they are. You see some friends, workout, and as soon as your mind has a second to itself, there they are again.

It hits you gradually and all at the same time. It’s as if you see it coming, but you’re still so unprepared when it does.

I saw it coming. I felt it the second it happened. This part of me that had been dormant. I’m not sure if I was ever really aware of it, until I was. And when it happened, this hidden part of me lit up and flourished. It opened a part of me that completely changed the course of my life.

I knew he’d ruin me, but I didn’t fucking care. What’s the point of backing down from someone, from an experience, from an opportunity simply because we know it may not last forever. The experience broke me. It shook me to my core. To love someone so deeply…so purely, in such an unconditional, unconventional way.

I felt him with every breath I took…his hands, his mouth, his presence. I heard him everywhere I went. When he wasn’t with me, he still was. He was experiencing my life, my emotions because somehow, in some sort of inexplicable way, we were connected. We felt one another.

Our bodies were so magnetically drawn to each other, that once we finally had sex, we were completely intertwined. It was all consuming. And no, even after years, the magnetic pull never faded. As more time passed our ability to communicate without words intensified. It was a deep understanding of one another. Few words needed to be said, we simply understood each other.

Eventually it did end. Not exactly how I imagined it would (that’s a story for another time), but it did. I always knew it would. We were in two different places in our lives, it simply wasn’t sustainable for the time.

I think about our time together quite often. How so many people in my life didn’t understand our relationship, or dynamic, or why I would continue seeing him, knowing my heart would be shattered when it ended, because it would end…I knew that. But, I DIDN’T FUCKING CARE.

Had I told myself no. Don’t answer his text. Don’t answer his call. Don’t go to his place. Don’t go on that trip…don’t fall deeply, madly into someone…I would have never encountered the most craziest, ineffable, out of body experience…out of body love.

It was intense, in all the right ways…Emotional, spiritual, physical, mental. It was lusciously overwhelming.

I wanted it. It messed me up. It ruined me. I will never regret it.

Since him, I started to approach mostly everything in that manner. Discernment is key. I don’t care if something or someone isn’t going to last. If they respect me, if there is reciprocity, if they put in effort, if it brings me joy…Who the fuck cares if it’s going to end. Allow yourself every experience, every opportunity, every feeling.

xx

I need your delicate, forceful pace surrounding me…guiding me back home.

Let me come to you…

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Your fear led us here.

Down this destructive path, where you limit your emotions and hide your vulnerability in a dark, cold room.

But you see, the exact connection you’re desperately craving, is the exact feeling you’re most afraid of. It would demand more from you. It would require an openness that you’re too scared to reveal. Vulnerability. The willingness to expose all layers of yourself…the good, the murky, and everything in between, all while risking the possibility of heartbreak.

You perceive uncomfortability as a red light. A warning sign telling you to head back. To run towards safety. But, beyond those signs is growth and some of the most rewarding aspects this life has to offer. Acceptance. Freedom. Safety. Love.

It’s hard to love someone who doesn’t love themselves. To see such a beautiful person standing in front of me and feel all their beliefs of inadequacy.

So here is a love letter, to you.

I love you, I do. Though I can no longer stay by your side, just know you are enough. You’ve always been enough, and you will always be enough. The next time someone sees through your facade, allow them the opportunity to dive deep into the abyss that is you.

And, while you’re probably feeling a void. A cavernous hole that feels impossible to fill. Know that you can, and you will. But, you can’t avoid or distract. Go within. Fall madly in love with yourself. Open your arms to the perpetual adoration that awaits you.

It’s evocative in every way, it drives me wild. Do you remember how wet I was for you? How good it felt to finally feel me?

I do….And I kept saying “I knew it….” Because I did. I knew that I would fit perfectly inside of you….I knew our bodies would move in perfect waves, from the first time we kissed…Your perfect, soft skin. Your perfect shape, under my weight. I wanted to cum the second I hit that spot.

Looking into each other’s eyes…feeling everything deeply, so perfectly. You knew exactly how to touch me, how to move inside of me. Makes me wet every time I think about it.

Are you wet for me now? Mmhmm.

Are you touching yourself? Mmhmm.

Next time you go down on me, will you touch yourself while you do? Yes babe, I will.

But look me in the eyes. Make me so hard with your gaze. And you’ll be so wet, ready to take all of me.

Getting you so close to coming, then stopping because I need to feel you… I need to feel you deep inside, hitting that spot…

Yes, baby. Make my cock dripping wet. Use your hands. Your lips. Your tongue. And I’ll be so fucking hard for you. Ready to make you cum all over me.

I’ll feel you in the back of my throat…I’ll taste you. I fucking love the way you taste.

And I love you in my mouth, babe….so much. I could never get enough. So soft and smooth. I love watching your clit swell from me…kissing it and sucking it gently, as your hips move for me.

Slap it with your cock, babe. Yes, baby, watch me as I do.

I’ll be biting my lip, as you make my thirst for you so intense.

Mmmmmmm, babyyyy. I love coming inside of you, but I want to cum all over your clit…And watch you touch yourself as I do. Dripping from me. Yeah, baby. Watch as my fingers wander down to my clit…I’ll feel your cum, feel my cum dripping out of me, feel us…then put my fingers in your mouth, as you look me in the eyes and lick every drop, then kiss me. I love kissing you after tasting us.

Fuck baby…I’m so crazy for you. I want you so so bad….

I’m daydreaming of tomorrow, being in your arms…Ravenous for one another…in the moment, making each other cum over and over again…

I am too. Baby, I had to cum…My desire for you is unlike anything I’ve ever known. You have no idea…

I do know…I feel the same for you. xx