Chapter 1
Since the day I became a woman, the one thing I’ve been craving is love the kind of love that only comes from a man who truly knows how to navigate both my heart and my body. A man who hungers for my attention, who makes me ache for his presence even when he’s only been gone for hours. Someone gentle in spirit, yet fucks like an untamed animal. A man unafraid to drown me in the depths of his eyes until I lose all sense of myself.
That yearning has lived within me for years. I’ve searched, but time and time again, men seem to lack at least one piece of what I dream of in my perfect man.
What is a perfect man?
To me, the perfect man is relentless in his love he stops at nothing to make sure I never doubt my place in his world. He isn’t afraid to bare his emotions, to show me that he aches for my touch every second of the day. He fears losing me, even for a heartbeat, yet he fears God enough to ground his passion in something deeper than desire. For years, I’ve prayed for such a man… but perhaps God is taking His time. Maybe I’ve just been unlucky in that department.
Fuck it let me tell you exactly what I crave most.
I dream of coming home one evening to roses and candlelighst, the air sweet with anticipation. Rose petals guide me down the hallway, step by step, toward something mysterious. A note rests along the way:
Note One: Welcome home, baby. Follow the roses for your surprise…
I smile as I trail the petals into the bathroom, where another note awaits me:
Note Two: Take off your clothes, slip into the bath, and sip on some red wine. Relax, my love you deserve this. I adore you, always. From your perfect man.
I sink into the warm water, the wine lingering on my lips, my body unwinding as if it has been waiting for this exact moment forever. Just then, he appears:; my perfect man walking in with a robe in one hand and a towel in the other. His eyes burn with passion as he leans down to kiss me.
Soft kisses become deeper, more urgent, until they melt into a full, breathless make-out session. Without breaking the rhythm of his slow, tender kisses, I feel his hand slide beneath the water, brushing against my thigh. My pulse quickens as his touch trails upward until his fingers find my pussy, circling my clit with deliberate, intoxicating strokes.
