There's a spot in my bed

From where you laid down your head

And I don't mind you,

Waiting by you.

And it's true, I tried making it up to you

With keeping my trust in you

It's time to lay here in this bed with you,

It's true, I tried making it up to you

If I did all that I had to do

Would you be here in my room?

The room is warm, and cozy. A bed made up for two, a plush expanse of heaven wrapped in cotton sheets the colour of fresh cream. A crimson comforter laid perfectly over the lowest fifth, adding in some colour to the mallow-like expanse.

I lie in it, tired but excited. It's been a long day for both of us, and I've been waiting for this a long time. The two of us, and a weekend to spend together. Exploring eachother after a long month apart, both away on business and frankly... phone sex is hardly a substute for the real thing. There's champaign cooling in a bucket of ice, untouched for your arrival. A trail of petals on the floor, leading from the door to our bedroom. Incense and a low song, somthing vaguely sad, but soft and warm, and... just perfect. Something I've listened to a dozen times on repeat and not tired of it.

And then there's me. Laid oj those cream sheets, hip cocked and reclined in feline laziness and arrogance. I know I look damn good, my copper hair, shorn on the sides and long on top, brushed back out of my eyes and slicked down with just the water from my shower. My skin smells like cardamom amd citrus, and a hint of cloves, the bodywash you got me for christmas. My limbs are long, and smooth, slight definition of muscle on my otherwise slender, athletic limbs.

My chest rises slowly, carefully, my breathing measured in the anticipation of excitement. The barest swell of my chest, scarcely handfuls of pale, frecked flesh, pert and oh-so sensitive as the water dries slowly off my skin. My stomach, smooth and ridged, that cluster of tight, interwoven muscle over my ribs... I love my body. Love it almost as much as I love yours.

And then my prides; my Mane, and my Cock. A fiery thatch of wild, barely-tamed hair creeping down in a thin trail from my navel, over the last swell of my Rectus Abdominus. Or as I like to call it, my Aphrodite's Belt, the part of my anatomy that could bring gods and goddesses crawling... and usually does, when you see it peeking just over my workout sweats. And then, my... endowment. It's still hard to think of it as mine, as nothing more than a genetic freak and twenty-four years of therapy and confusion as to who, or what I am.

And then you came along, and solved all that. Taught me how to love the pringle's tube hanging from my mound, and all the joy it could bring to a relationship. Even one as adventurous and... experimental as ours.

I hear the door click and the faint rustle of clothing and jangle of keys from downstairs. You're here... my breath hitches for a moment as parts on my anatomy start to tingle. A faint light-headedness, a warm feeling burning over my freckled cheeks...

Love. Who doesn't love it?

ME; Pale, Slender, Atheletic Ginger Futa, with some confidence problems, body image issues, imperfect personality quirks and hopelessly head-over-heels with her partner.

YOU; Something contrasting, and different. Especial loves at the moment include muscle, pubic/underarm hair, mild domineering qualities, love, kinkiness, switchy feelings, and brown skin of some description.

Please, don't message me with a one-line thing. I'm not asking for a book, I just want some effort put in. Bonuses go to if you give me somewhere to go, ask me questions or supply some kinks you're in to. For the love of all fuck don't give me a three-ine chracter description. Give me hints, don't just go "37, 38G, Curvy.". Numbers aren't sexy.

PMs only, no Discord, no Kik, no Chat. Approach me from either one and you will be subject to ridicule, and general bitchiness.

Okay? All bases covered. Lure out... lets see if I can't get a bite this evening, huh?

Song in the background, for reference