source site Sex appeals and applies, drastically, throughout, to everyone. I want to use sexiness, the feeling of a femme fatale with a shiny sexy bullet of a body so that when you look at my boobs, you look at me and what I am trying to say. Say so much. Say so loud. I am bleeting like a goat.
get link So when you think about opening my Instagram story wishing for gorgeous ample boobs and my famous collarbones, you will see the books I spend time with, the things that I read, the things that I have learnt through books and maybe my boobs are trying to sell these books, these hefty yellow pages with a hobby strewn across words which excited me as much as my boobs excite you.
here Let my boobs garner attention. So that my cleavage leaves you asking for more. And in between such wishful thinking, I hope that you also message me to talk about what got you reading instead of asking me to show some more.
Instead of you asking me to show some nudes, I hope you will ask, for the first time ever, ask to borrow books.
I hope my body is so mainlining that the things I do becomes so too.
I hope when you marinate thoughts of me naked and call me a whore, you have learnt synonyms of ten such words and you can masturbate on the idea of reading your most awaited book.
I hope you look at me and say, she has the time to run and to read. Why not me? Why not me with a body like that and a library which could put envy to everything in need?
I hope when you walk on the streets, browsing through your feed, you find it littered with many a books.