SexyChubbyHot

SEXXCHUBBY

Bonjour! I am Cristal, a woman with a generous silhouette, and I have learned to carry my body with the strength of someone who knows its value. Each of my steps is an affirmation: of confidence, sensuality, presence. I move naturally, as if the world was choreographed to follow me. I don't seek attention; it's just hard to ignore me. My lips, which barely sketch a mischievous smile, hide stories and secrets that are revealed only with time. They express less of what they feel, but suggest more than many could imagine. And my gaze. my gaze does not lie. There's fire in it, depth, questions that say more than my words. It has not always been this way. There was a time when I doubted, like many, like everyone. But I found myself in the reflection of my own skin and I discovered that true beauty is not measured by size or the criteria of others.. It lies in the attitude, in the desire to be yourself without asking permission. Today I am my own muse. And this body, mind and soul in motion, are my way of writing my truth to the world.

Every part of my life carries in it something of you, and it is really nothing extraordinary; you know it as objectively as I do.. However, there is one thing I would like to clarify to you. When I say each part, I'm not just talking about this present moment, this waiting for you and your discovery, and, damn it, your loss and your reunion, and I hope nothing more. I’m not talking about you suddenly saying, “I’m going to cry,” and I, my throat tied, “OK, cry ». And that a soft and invisible shower protects us, and maybe that's why the sun will soon rise. Nor am I talking only about the fact that, day after day, the number of our small decisive complicities increases, nor of the fact that I can or believe I can turn my failures into victories, nor of the fact that you offer me the tender gift of your last despair..

Not. The choice is much more serious. When I say all the plots, I mean that in addition to this sweet cataclysm, you are also rewriting my childhood, this age where adult and solemn things are said and where solemn adults celebrate them, and you know that is a bad sign. I mean that you recreate my adolescence, this time when I was an old man overwhelmed with doubts, and you, you know how to extract from this desert my seed of joy and water it by watching it grow.. I mean that you shake my youth, this jug that no one has ever taken in hand, this shadow that no one has ever approached its shadow, and you, you know how to shake it until the dry leaves begin to fall and the framework of my truth remains without exploits. I mean that you embrace my maturity, this mixture of amazement and experience, these strange borders of anguish and snow, this candle that illuminates death, this precipice of poor life. As you see, it's more serious, much more serious, because with these words and others, I mean that you are not only the dear girl that you are, but also the splendid or prudent woman that I loved or that I love.

I love you by the eyebrows, by the hair, I debate with you in the corridors of an immaculate white where play the fountains of light, I discuss with you of each name, I tear you with the delicacy of a scar, I will deposit in your hair ashes of flashes and sleepy ribbons in the rain. I do not want you to have a form, that you are precisely what comes after your hand, for water, consider water, and the lions when they dissolve in the sugar of the fable, and the gestures, this architecture of nothingness, lighting their lamps in the middle of the encounter. All tomorrow is the blackboard where I invent you and draw you, ready to erase you, you're not like that, nor with this straight hair, this smile. I'm looking for your sum, the rim of the glass where the wine is also the moon and the mirror, I'm looking for that line that makes a man tremble in a museum gallery. Plus, I love you, and it's long and cold.