Nezabudka

What turns me on isn’t just touch.It’s the voice — a little rough, a little confident.Fingers moving slowly, like they’re learning my skin.Eyes that undress me before hands do.And the silence between words, full of tension and unspoken wants.I love when restraint is only at the beginning. A lack of sensitivity.When he rushes — not me, just the act itself.When it’s all about him, and he forgets I’m not just participating — I’m half of the experience.Roughness without permission, silence without emotion.Chemistry isn’t just bodies.It’s awareness. It’s rhythm.