There are some types of desire you cannot cultivate. They are like wild roses: they rarely flower. Desires designed to be the only answer to who we are. Breathing it, imagining it?"the sense of sin, the taste of pleasure. Inhaling it like your favorite scent. Wanting your body to be covered in those damn orgasmic moments, lost in waves of sensation. The kind of desire that consumes, that makes the world fade away, until only the hunger remains. It's a fire that burns without ever truly satisfying, always leaving you wanting more, aching for that fleeting release.
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