Every day I count my blessings that I was born into a sexually liberated generation. One that makes it okay for me to pack a mini arsenal of toys armed to pleasure anyone lucky enough to get a hold of them. I sit back and watch people mistakenly lay down with strangers to satisfy insatiable urges. I too have urges, but as an independent woman in a time riddled with STDs and this young birth epidemic, I've decided not to become a statistic.
Women get lured into bed with complete strangers just to find out how quickly 60 minutes of euphoria can turn into a lifetime of forced interactions with someone who maybe you thought you would spend the rest of your life with. I can assure you...it rarely works out like that. Instead of putting myself at risk I open myself up to pulsing sensations and a vivid imagination that transforms my pleasure chest into the man of my dreams and pulls me into euphoria.
An alternate reality that allows me to be as naughty as they come all from the privacy of my bedroom. A plush pillow top fit for a queen an occasionally opened up to spectators see. So sexually expressive that like art work, I open myself up for the world. Moans and screams are insignificant compared to the pleasure I give MYSELF. Can't say I need a man to get me off. I'd to have one, but until he comes my right hand man will do just find. If they persist in wanting to know my past time, I'm a MASTER deBATOR and if you don't know exactly what that means...I can show you better than I can tell you.
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