As Eve was crafted from Adam's ribs, she fell into temptation of the sight of the red apple, a serpent at the side. I am a woman that only begs for the single touch.
I crave for the contact of your fingers that delve above my skin, marking its territory in places that you can imagine. I was to feel your fingers wander along my collarbone, following to my chest. I want to feel your muscles flex against my thigh that quivers in excitement, to feel your fingers behold over the dampness that you could only see. Your lips are the temptation that my fingers wish to touch.
My body writhes under the thought of seduction that only I could muster in a dream. Day by day, I seek for it to happen.
— The End —