I have a desire, a need that plagues me constantly. It is the need to touch, to taste; to feel the desperate arousal of another. I feel it all the time. When I'm shopping in my local supermarket, standing in line at the bank, even when I'm walking down the street.
Some people would call me a sex addict, but I'm not, I'm a man addict. You see, it's about more than just sex. I'm not just looking for a quick fuck; I want a connection, a meeting of souls. I want to lie under a man and know that at that moment, he would do anything, give anything to be buried, balls deep in my body.
I look at men constantly, wondering what their bodies look like beneath their clothing. Do they have a muscular physique? Is their chest hairy or hairless? Do they have a six pack, strong thighs, that intriguing line of hair that starts around the belly button and runs down the lower abdomen, to join the coarse curls that surround a man's sex?
I look at their crotches and wonder how large their cocks are. Do they bend to the left or the right? Are they circumcised or uncircumcised? Do they like having their balls sucked, or a finger up their arse?
I'm not looking to get married or settle down, so I never look past the outer package. It's a shallow world and I'm no different to any other woman who is looking for great, memorable sex, so I don't really care about their personalities, or if they have a job or money in the bank. I just care about their looks, their bodies and their odour.
I know the last criteria may seem a little odd, but I have a really good sense of smell and enjoy savouring the individual aromas of a man, working backwards to peel away the layers of cologne, deodorant and soap, until I'm rewarded by his natural scent.
I have a good job that pays well, so I can afford a decent flat, nice clothes and once in a while, a pair of designer shoes. I love wearing heels and have perfected the art of strutting around in five inch stilettos. At five foot one, I'm a little shorter than the average woman, so the extra height the heels give, enable me to be seen in a crowd, plus they make my legs look great.
I inherited my tanned complexion and strength of character from my father. My auburn hair, sea green eyes and petite frame are courtesy of my mother. My toned body, firm thighs and flat stomach however, are all my own doing. Regular exercise and healthy eating are just part of my daily regime, the rest involves having my waist length hair trimmed every six weeks, to keep it healthy and shiny and having a complete leg, underarm and pubic wax on a regular basis. After all, if you want to catch the main prize, you have to bait the trap with honey.
I love music and I love to dance, so I regularly haunt the night clubs of London and I always go alone. A petite, beautiful woman, alone on a crowded dance floor, is considered easy pickings, which actually helps me to pick out the kind of man I'm looking for.
If I have to tell a guy no, but he won't take no for an answer, there is usually a protective alpha male, ready to step in. I like strong, protective men and if he happens to fit the rest of my requirements, I'll let him fuck me, but if not, I'll say a polite thank you, smile and move on.
I frequent the clubs so often that I'm well known by the doormen and they always let me straight in. I'm pretty sure it's a combination of my looks and the gentle, slow caress I always give them across their crotch or backside as I make my way inside the club. Sometimes, they return the favour and one doorman even put his hand up my skirt once, sliding a finger into my panties and over my pussy. The move was slick and fast and after removing his hand, he licked the tip of his finger, giving me a cheeky grin. I responded with a sultry smile and blew him a kiss.
Last night, I was on the prowl and chose to wear a backless, halter neck dress in black, with a gold thread running through it. I love wearing this dress because the gold catches the light, causing it to shimmer as I walk and comes to mid thigh, showing off my smooth, golden legs.
My jewellery consisted of a simple pair of gold drop earrings and a set of gold bangles on my left wrist. Black peep toe stiletto sling backs and a matching clutch bag, completed my outfit.
As I strutted down the street past the line, I walked like a model, Placing one foot directly in front of the other, which caused my hips to sway slightly. I kept my back straight and my head high, taking short, quick steps, which forced my lustrous hair to bounce as it cascaded down my back.
