Add a description of the contents of your gallery, so it will be more visible for other users. Remember that you can also add descriptions to each image.
Saving...
Description saved
The night I imagine being tasted. Some nights I sit on the edge of a chair and let my legs fall apart more than I should, feeling the air slip between them like it knows what I am thinking. My anklet presses into my skin with every small move, and the metal feels warmer than it should. I imagine a face close enough to make me shiver without touching, soft breath staying where I want to be felt the most. I grip the sides of the chair and hold myself still, because the desire feels sharper when I don’t move at all. The warmth under my hijab climbs higher, and it feels like I am giving myself away without a sound. I imagine being tasted slowly, kept open until I forget I could ever close my legs. The room disappears when I let myself stay in that thought too long, and I wonder if anyone could ever see me like this, waiting, ready, and too full of need to hide. I can’t say it out loud without blushing, so I leave it here, because writing is the only way to touch what I can’t have. If you want to see the face behind these nights, and the friends who share my private world, I left a secret waiting for you.
Saving...
Send this link to a friend
