I love big men. Big, burly men that, when I wrap my arms around them, make me feel like I’m holding on to something strong and sexy. Something more than a toothpick that might blow away in the wind. Big men make me feel more protected and safe. They’re just more fun to cuddle with.
I love all types of men and enjoy the sensual art of flirting. The shy look from across the room, the way your eyes follow my skirt sliding up my thigh as I sit down at the bar. An open-toed 3 inch heel dangling from my foot as I remove the cherry from my Amaretto Sour and sensually pull it from its stem with my tongue. Wrapping my full lips around its juicy goodness, knowing you’ll be buying the next drink.
I like getting inside the minds of men and pulling their deepest, darkest secrets from them. Things I know you don’t dare tell your wives or your girlfriends. Your secret foot fetish, or your secret crush on your wife’s younger sister. Perhaps, even, that guy you’ve been watching at your gym.
Somethings though, a big man will lock eyes on me in such a way I know he sees more in me. This man knows I am hiding secrets of my own. He knows I have longings I dare not speak, desires I dare not fulfill. This man will not be impressed with my bar tricks. He will not be buying me a drink. He will simply walk up to me and tell me we are leaving, and I will go with him, because I will be unable to tell him no.
So, will you tell me your secrets? Or will I tell you mine? Either way, I promise, we will have a good time.
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