RubyGomez

I look in the mirror and smile. Not because everything is perfect, but because life has taught me that there is always something to smile about. At forty, I learned to love my lines of expression, these small traces of each shared laughter, each excited emotion. Going down the street to greet the head that crosses me. Some return the gesture, others seem too self-absorbed in their thoughts. I don't mind that. I like to make smiles, even if they are ephemeral. You never know when a simple sample of kindness can brighten someone's day. The wind flies my hair and I breathe deeply, enjoying the fresh air. Today is a good day, like so many others, because I decided that it was.

At forty, I still have fantasies. Not the ones people usually assume when you talk about hidden desires, but maybe also. Mine are wilder, freer. I fantasize about leaving everything behind in the morning, taking a light bag and getting lost in a train without a destination. I imagine you walk in unknown streets, learn a language based on gestures and laughter, find with looks that expect nothing from me. Sometimes I dream of having wings, flying over the sea at sunset, with the wind so strong on my face that makes me forget the years, the rules, the limits. And there are nights in which I close my eyes and I see myself dancing barefoot in the rain, with a stinging skin, with my heart pounding in my throat, no matter who looks at me or if someone accompanies me. Cause my fantasies are not just dreams.. they are promises. One day, one by one, I will make them realize.

Fetishes are like little secrets that hide in the shadows of the mind, waiting for the right moment to reveal themselves. At forty, mine have not disappeared.. on the contrary, they have matured with me. I love the subtle rubbing of firm hands on my skin, the feeling of something forbidden whispering in my ear. The looks of the looks that say more than words, the electric tension before a hardly intentional touch. The power of a serious voice marking the soft orders, the sweetness of a plea disguised as desire. The lace against my skin, the aroma of a perfume impregnated in the clothes, the feeling of control and delivery in perfect balance. There is something irresistible about the art of extending pleasure, playing with limits, exploring what others dare to imagine.. At this point, I know what I like.. And what I want.

I have never felt the need to give a name to what I am, but if someone asks, I will say that I love without labels. I am attracted by intense looks, smiles that disarm me, hands that know how to find me in the dark. Sometimes they were men, sometimes women. It's not the genre that speeds up my pulse, but the connection, the chemistry, that moment when the world fades away and all that remains is the shared rhythm. I'm not looking for explanations or permission. I just live, I feel and let the desire guide me.