AlaiaLove

🌹 ALAIA LOVE🌹

Hi, I'm Alaia. 🌹A woman passionate about the small pleasures of life: the music that ignites my senses, the colors that come to life in painting and the travels that awaken my adventurous spirit. Every new experience inspires me to explore more of myself and the world around me. Dancing is my favorite language. Through it I express what words cannot say: my energy, my sensuality and my deepest emotions.. I love letting myself go by the rhythm, feeling how the music runs through my body and transforms into movement, desire and connection.. When I seek calm, I lose myself in mystery movies or in a good role-playing game, where I can be who I want to be. Role playing allows me to enter different worlds, awaken my imagination and explore the border between fantasy and reality.. It’s a way to get to know myself, to discover new shades of my personality. In that journey I also discovered a very special part of me: my fascination with BDSM.. In the surrender, in the confidence and in the intensity of each game, I find a unique connection. I feel free to be guided, to surrender to the experience and to fulfill the deepest fantasies with subtlety, surrender and genuine desire. I am art, curiosity and pleasure in constant evolution. If you dare to meet me, I promise that together we will discover how far the imagination can go.

 My short stories

Without knowing it you make me feel like a goddess, you have raised me above the thresholds of worldly pleasure, I wish to stay and enjoy for a long time in the place where you have let me rise and let me be 100% me, with all my. I write with calm, not to know everything, but to appreciate it and savor it like never before.. I have chosen the freedom to enjoy without filters, although I will always be in a continuous learning process, I know that I will be able to enjoy each chapter. I'm gonna sneak into your bed. But first I want to enjoy the views, what in a moment I'm going to eat and taste. I'll get right under the sheet. I'll slide my fingers and hands over your skin, running you all over. I want to see how your skin rises to the touch of mine. I don't want to wake you, I want you to look like you're dreaming even though I'm there. I'll kiss every inch of you, until I know it and make it mine. I will start from below, I will go up your legs, until I stop at the height of your groin, I will go up to your hips and I will see how my kisses, tongue and caresses react on your skin. You move and offer me another part of you that I want to explore. I stick to you, to your back. I run and draw with my fingers your muscles, I see how your breathing changes a little. You know someone's disturbing your sleep but you let yourself go.. I can't help it and I start to breathe you slowly and without haste. My nose inspires you from the hollow of your ear to your neck and for a moment I let go. It is so much the need that I have to sate myself of you, that my anticipation makes my pulse is accelerated and want to go faster than what requires this moment, which asks calm, pause and enjoy. But my calm breaks when I feel your body respond, still asleep, to every touch of my breath. Your breathing changes, it becomes deeper, more conscious, as if a part of you already knew that I am there, silently claiming what belongs to me. My mouth barely touches your skin, but the intention is clear. Each touch is a statement. No words, just body language that understands everything without asking permission. I caress you with the slowness of those who are not in a hurry to get anywhere, because the destination is the journey, and the journey is you. Your muscles tighten under my fingers. I stand still, enjoying that moment in which desire mixes with doubt: do you dream with me or do you already know that I have you near? It doesn't matter. I stand there, playing with that fine line between sleep and wakefulness, between waiting and surrender. The air gets thicker. The weather becomes soft. And I, stuck to you, let my body speak for me, to tell you without a voice what my thoughts cannot contain. I don't need you to wake up yet. I prefer to stay here, feeling how little by little desire betrays us, breathing the same air until the world simply ceases to exist outside this bed. He doesn't know if he's dreaming or if the dream has become too real. He feels a warmth that envelops him, a presence that glides over his skin like a thought he can’t turn away.. In the haze of sleep, his body reacts before his mind: a slight movement, a deeper breath, an unconscious attempt to find the source of that sensation.. I'm still there, so close that my breath mixes with his. The distance between them is just an airline. Every touch is an electric current that you don't see, but you feel. Percibo el ritmo: the softness first, then the pressure. The weight of a body that does not impose itself, but also does not ask permission. And in its pleasant confusion, it lets itself be done, it lets itself be felt. He opens his eyes, barely. Dim light, a piece of skin, the sound of breath that doesn't belong to him alone. He doesn't say anything.. cannot. Don't want to break the moment. I notice it—that small change in her breathing, that silent surrender—and she smiles without him seeing it.. His hand stops just where the pulse beats fastest, as if to set the rhythm that they’re both about to follow.. I don't need words.

Only that primitive language that is written with skin, with contained hunger, with desire that does not seek explanations. He raises just one hand, finds it, catches it, and for an instant, time stops flowing. There's no sleep, no waking, no limits. Just two bodies learning to say everything without speaking. The heat expands, mixes with the breath and pulse, and each touch awakens the next.. We move without thinking, guided by the instinct that pushes us to approach, to melt into the urgency of what can not wait. Our hands, our mouths, our weight seek, meet and withdraw, playing on that limit where desire becomes physical, almost painful for its intensity.. I stand on him, I fit on his body that adapts to each of the shapes of my curves. His hands hold my neck, my shoulders. He slides over my breasts catching and caressing my nipples, while they remain erect under his touch.. A little pressure from my vagina on him, is just the detonator to ignite and activate. I know how he likes it, I see that it drives him crazy and I try to make that movement with more cadence, squeezing and releasing to make his erection mine and control his pleasure.. Our breathing, our bodies synchronize, his hands and my body move together. He starts to pounce on me, applying frantic rhythm to my sex. His fingers seduce my nipples and without warning the plateau towards pleasure in my invades. Apply pressure and softness, small circles that torture my sex from the inside out. The climax surprises me on him riding it, seconds later he follows me with a brutal orgasm that moves me inside. We feel like one body and one breath. Every movement, every touch, is a dialogue without words that asks no permission and does not wait for approval. The world disappears, the room becomes a suspended universe where only we two exist, consumed by the need to feel, to recognize, to occupy the same space at the same time.. We understand each other without talking. We know. We feel. And in that suspended space, where urgency is pure and passion is not hidden, we let our bodies speak the language we have always wanted to learn: without reservations, without pause, without return.. Sex with you is always like this: you look at me, touch me and make me feel like a goddess.

Stories really live in our heads and come to life when we put words on them and begin to tell them.. That's what's brought me to this point. I met you by chance, that way what you think will be silly, you don't care. I found myself thinking of you all day, when just a few days ago I didn't even know who you were. Funny, isn’t it? I've read about it, there are movies, series and still, I didn't think this would happen to me. At times life gives you moments, people and sometimes crosses us to be unrepeatable. I've always thought that sometimes, the best results come from not expecting anything in return. Giving for giving, doing for doing. Without expecting anything in return, it's my philosophy of life. Sometimes it is a blessing but others. This is how this story begins, suddenly one day, I discovered writing, see where it takes me and the freedom it makes me feel.. I met other people who share through their writings, I can assure you that they keep a whole inner world. I will propose to seduce, only with words that caress the soul and warm the body. Thus began that message, unexpected, which made his eyes stuck on the screen. It wasn't a straight confession, it wasn't a brazen daring. It was rather an invitation to a secret game, an intimate space that began to be woven between two strangers.. He answered cautiously, although something vibrated differently inside him: "If words have power, perhaps yours have already begun to touch me." Since then, every mail became a bridge of sensations. They were not just phrases; they were whispers disguised as text, confidences that seemed to glide like invisible fingers over the skin.. She knew how to choose each term, how to leave silences between paragraphs, as if in those gaps he could imagine her breathing close. The hours of waiting between a message and another were a contained fire. She described what she felt as she read it: the sweet anxiety of imagining him in front of her, the tingling in her neck at the thought of his voice.. He, for his part, confessed how his thoughts were ignited with each line, how the daily routine was interrupted by the urgency of checking his digital mailbox, as if an invisible touch was waiting for him there.. One day, he dared more: "If I close my eyes, I can feel your presence. ¿Would you let me draw with words the place where I want to find you? " She replied without hesitation: "Draw it. I will close my eyes and inhabit it." And so, between metaphors and descriptions, they built a space where the bodies had not yet been touched, but were already recognized.. The skin was still a mystery, but the emotions, the tension and the desire, were as alive as if the hands had already covered every corner.. It was a game that kept them awake, a crossing of phrases that became increasingly bolder, more intimate, closer to that edge where imagination merges with reality.. The exchange of mail had ceased to be a hobby to become a secret pulse with the desire. Las promesas se multiplicaban: night walks described in detail, shared coffees in invented corners, rooms full of silences that seemed to rub the skin. They both knew they were building something more than fantasies: every word written was a veiled promise, a “I’m waiting for you” disguised as a metaphor.. One afternoon, she wrote with barely confessed trembling: "I have ceased to wonder what would happen if we saw each other. now I just think of when. I want to see if your hands are as skillful as your handwriting." He replied, letting himself go: "The difficult thing is not to want to find you. the difficult thing is to imagine that after so much fire, the real world can not contain us. Because I swear there are nights when I read your phrases and my skin burns as if you were touching me. " She answered unrestrained, sparkling and direct: "Promise me that when we meet there will be no words of courtesy, only kisses that burn and looks that undress.". I don't want greetings, I want welcome bites." He laughed as he read, and replied with the same boldness, "Then come with your mouth ready to steal my breath.. Because the first touch will not be a kiss, it will be a fire." That message remained floating between the two, like a caress suspended in the air. Hours passed, days too, until finally one of them broke the silence with an address and a time.. No immediate confirmation. None said “yes, I’ll be there”. But in every heartbeat, in every glance at the mailbox, they both knew that the date was already written somewhere between promise and chance.. And so, with the breath held and the imagination turned on, the story was on the perfect edge: the expectation of whether the next step would be another mail. or the first meeting where t odas those phrases, at last, became skin.

We had been chatting for too long, long enough to know that we really wanted to meet. They were silly talks, sometimes deep, but they all connected us in one way or another.. We still took time to set a date and a place where we would not feel uncomfortable or too exposed. ¿Who doesn't stay over for coffee? We all do. Coffee with coworkers, with friends when there is no time for anything else, with acquaintances when you stumble in the same place and have to wait. So seen from the outside there is nothing wrong with drinking coffee, it serves to socialize and connect. Nobody dared to be the last person to arrive, so from different points of the street we saw how we were approaching the meeting point and the inevitable.. I'll say in my defense that since then the coffees taste better but I'm not going to go ahead. We greet each other with the clumsiness of two people just getting to know each other, but with the inner wisdom of knowing the other person’s secrets and sins.. We walked to the table and asked. Right there began a duel of glances, blinks and half-smiles. They brought the coffees to the table and the surprised face of the other one could be intuited, we had ordered the same. I got up, made a clumsy excuse to go to the bathroom.. And a minute later there we were, face to face with my back against the cold tiles. I was breathing heavily, with my breath snapped by the desire we were about to consume. He grabbed my neck and jaw with his big strong hands, that's when I let go. Her lips absorbed mine in a powerful kiss. From that moment our tongues were one. One of his hands began to run from my neck to my waist, not without first making a long pause by my erect nipples and pinching them over my clothes.. By the time I was aware of my own breathing, I already had his two hands covering my body under my clothes.. I started to kiss his neck, his jaw and tried to do exactly the same as he did to me but he didn't let me do it.. He grabbed my wrists with one hand, this way he could slide his hand under my waist, to touch the moisture and heat that emanated from my inside.. I couldn't tell how long we stayed like this, my legs didn't obey me, I was only able to hold myself because you held me with your fingers inside me. My panting echoed in my ears and resounded against the bathroom tiles. I needed very little friction on my throbbing clitoris to let my mouth escape the first orgasm, you did not let me do anything else, hold your gaze and assume that what was happening was caused by you. We looked at each other and never stopped smiling, small kisses that led to others more intense, the mouth was not enough, we wanted more. We had our breaths racing, skin calling skin. We left the bar in a hurry, we went to a nearby hotel, it was around the corner, but those 5 minutes, seemed eternal. We had to keep calm, when we couldn't control our own excitement.