I dream of her— Her scent, her skin, the way her body might bloom beneath my touch. Fingertips grazing, mapping the soft terrain of her inner thigh, ascending slowly, a pilgrimage to ecstasy. I imagine her pulse quickening, her breath hitching as my hands wander, my lips tracing the curve of her neck, lingering between the valley of her chest, until they find the shimmering dell between her thighs. My tongue follows, an explorer craving revelation. God, how I yearn for her. To consume her sighs, to drink her moans, to make her shudder with unbridled want. I crave the weight of her pleasure— her voice rising, breathless, breaking, a symphony of surrender. I want to taste her elixir of life, again and again, until her body trembles, until she begs me to stop, until she cannot bear the sweetness of my endless devotion. I want to devour her as though the hunger will never be sated.