For men that have love for boobs
When I was young and whenever I was naughty, my mother would threaten to sell me to the gypsies. Instead of being frightened, I was intrigued. I thought that living with the gypsies would be so exciting and full of adventure. I would see the gypsy caravan come through our town and would go to great lengths to make contact with them. Even as a young girl of twelve or so, I could feel the sexual eroticism that these mysterious people exuded. The men were dark and sensuous. The women seemed blatantly sexy. I loved their sense of style, clothing, and even their musky odors. As I grew older and would fantasize about sex, my lover would always have a "gypsy" quality to him. Many of my fans say I look very slavic. To me slavic meant looking like a gypsy. I guess I must have gypsy blood. This could account for my hot-blooded sensuality. Often when I pose and have to think sexy thoughts, I think of my fantasy gypsy lover. Our lovemaking would be wild, creative, and very physical. I normally enjoy prolonged lovemaking sessions. It can be gentle, teasing with lots of love bites and kissing. But, in my gypsy fantasy, lovemaking is close to violent. It is very physical, urgent, mind shattering. Don't ask why I think this...but this is what making love to my fantasy gypsy is all about. I climax very, very hard. Some years ago when I first started modeling for SCORE, I met a fan who looked dark, daring and very gypsy like. For days, I fantasized about him. One day, he came by and visited me on the set to ask for my autograph. When my fingers touched his, I almost fainted...there was so much sexuality. I am somewhat psychic, and I knew at that moment that I knew this person from a past life. After my photo shoot ended, I went out for drinks with him, and before long, we ended up at his apartment. I have never made love so passionately, so all consuming. I did not leave his bed for one week. We could not get enough of each other. We stopped only to eat and sleep. Even when we took time to take a shower we were making violent love. It was remarkable. After years of fantasizing about making love to a gypsy, I had finally found my very own gypsy lover. But, the irony of the whole thing was that even though he was dark, sensuous, and looked like a gypsy...complete with a gold earring, he was from Dublin, and went by the name of Seamus. So much for fantasies. But then, a girl can still dream, right? Ciao! Chloe