She has curves that defy description—as if desire itself had shaped every line. Her wide hips, her full thighs, the way she walks... it's a silent dance that only I can decipher. It seems like time stopped when she appeared, so perfectly made, that I wonder if I dreamed it. But no—she's real. And every detail about her calls to me, captures me, consumes me. It's not just her body—it's the way she looks, the way she smiles, as if she knows she was made exactly for me.