Introducing--- a sex obsessed female

Incase you did not know, there is a fascinating female lurking nearby. Someone who promises to uphold the sex-legacy willingly or unwillingly passed on to her.

She lives here and talks about her sex life, past and present, about an indian girl's sexual-coming-of-age and about how she learnt of her sexual needs and desires. Her writings weave a story of passion, of illicit sex, of that "he" who seduced and screwed her out off her fucking mind.

Go read her and maybe you'll know what makes an indian girl's sexuality tick or not.

A taste of her wetness:

I lick my lips nervously. His eyes follow my tongue, latch on to it. Slowly they travel lower, over my throat, down between my breasts. The shirt I’m wearing seemed very decent when I wore it, but his eyes can see right through it to my breasts. Breasts which are rising and falling softly with every breath. Breasts which give a little jump when I swallow. His eyes rest on them for a minute before glancing up to meet mine. My eyes tell him what I’m feeling. That I’m waiting for his touch. For his hands to go where his eyes have been. But he’s not done yet. Once again his gaze travels downwards, lingering over my lips. Lips that he’s always loved. Lips that he’s made promises to. This time his eyes don’t stop at the V of the shirt. They go lower, trying to see my belly, zoning on to the navel. I had my navel pierced for him. I know he’s fantasized about my navel. I’m fighting an urge to lift up my shirt and invite him to explore my it with his tongue. My hands are shaking and my core is throbbing. I can feel myself getting wet, just anticipating his gaze.