SophieVidal

I am like the first spring breeze after a long winter: fresh, bright, soft. and full of promises. There is something in my way of being that disarm: a mixture of genuine sweetness, childish tenderness and a pure curiosity that makes me see every detail as if it were the first time.. I am one of those girls who have not been hardened by life, who still believe that people are good until proven otherwise, and who marvel at things that others have already stopped noticing.. I have a natural innocence, but not naive: it is not that I do not understand the world, it is that I prefer to look at it with eyes full of hope. I believe in the magic of the beginnings, in the comfortable silences, in the handwritten letters, in the long hugs and in the kisses that are given slowly, with intention.. I have a laughter that sounds like little bells and a soft way of speaking, as if each word were a flower that cares before letting go to the wind. I usually ask everything, with my low and charming voice that I don't want to interrupt, just understand. My eyes shine when I learn something new, as if the world were a puzzle that I slowly begin to assemble. I am creative, sensitive, very imaginative. I invent stories while walking, I fall in love with landscapes, smells, songs. And I dream. I sleep a lot. With traveling, with trying new things, with discovering what my body feels in experiences that I don’t know yet, but secretly long for..

Sometimes I blush for no reason, especially when I feel someone watching me tenderly. I have small gestures that I love: playing with my fingers when I’m nervous, hugging myself if I feel out of place, or staring at the sky as if looking for answers up there.. Deep down, there is a girl who wants to grow up, but without losing that part of me that believes in fairy tales. I want to discover what it feels like to love with the whole body, what it is to dare, what it is to explore the world with the senses awake. I’m not looking for something hurried or noisy, but someone who takes me by the hand and says “come on, I’ll show you”. Someone to take care of me while I uncover myself. to myself, to the other, to the unknown. And when I do, when I let go and feel safe, I will blossom with a new intensity: still innocent, yes, but now with the beauty of who begins to live, with open eyes and heart beating strong..

I have sweet, simple, but also incredibly deep thoughts. Sometimes, when I am alone in my room, she lays me on my back, staring at the ceiling, wondering if there is someone out there who sees me as she sees others: with tenderness, with patience, with a desire to know what is beyond the surface.. I dream of a love that doesn’t have to shout, but feels in the little things: in a caress before bed, in a shared laugh in the kitchen, in a look that says “I understand you” without the need to speak.. For me, love is not a goal, it's a discovery. I don't desperately seek it, but I hope for it. I imagine it. I sense it. In my mind, loving is like learning to dance with your eyes closed: trust, surrender, and let the bodies guide each other gently. I believe in slow love, in which it is built with patience, with everyday details, with respect for the silences. I'm not interested in quick relationships, or empty "I love you". I want to feel that when someone chooses me, they do it with the soul.

I'm afraid to surrender, not because I don't want to, but because love, for me, is something sacred. I think my heart isn't a passing place. I keep it like a closed garden, full of flowers that have not yet bloomed, waiting for someone who knows how to enter without stepping. I think true love shouldn't hurt but heal. That whoever loves does not squeeze, but embraces. That passion can be sweet and deep at the same time, like a sigh that starts in the chest and ends in the skin. Sometimes I wonder if my way of loving is too dreamy, if there really is such a love. But I can't help it.. This is how I see the world: with a mixture of innocence and desire to feel it all. I imagine being with someone who looks at me like it's the first time, even after a thousand days together. To hear me when my voice shakes. Let him discover me patiently, not only on the outside, but on the inside. slowly, with respect, with gentle desire, with silent passion.

There's a feeling growing in me with every day that passes. It's subtle, but constant. Like a wave that does not stop, that runs through me from the inside, that makes me feel more alive, more awake. more mine. There are times when I need nothing but silence. No conversations, no reasons, no promises. Just the sound of my breath, the rubbing of my skin against the sheets, the weight of my own body as I let myself fall on the bed. That's where it all starts. That's where I really live. I'm discovering myself in ways I never imagined. Not from logic, not from some theory, but from what I feel when I close my eyes and let my body guide me. When my hand moves slowly, sure, looking for that which I am no longer ashamed to name. I don't do it in a hurry. I'm not in a hurry.. I like to provoke myself. I like to wait. I like to let the desire take me without asking.

It's not just desire. It's morbid.. It's that tickle between my legs that doesn't ask for permission. That dirty thought that gets in my head in broad daylight and doesn't leave. Sometimes I'm working, or on the street, and suddenly my mind escapes.. I imagine things that before would have embarrassed me. Not now. Now I let them in. Thoughts bite me. They warm me up.. And I like to know that I get hot easy. That certain situations make me a silent pervert. Like when someone rubs my back with too much confidence, or when I see someone eating a dessert with their mouth wide open. and I just think of what his tongue would look like between my legs. There is something so exquisite about thinking these things, not saying them, carrying them with me all day. like a dirty and delicious secret

I've found myself wanting things I never imagined before. Not just sex. no. I want more. I want to be used, whispered in my ear without filter, grabbed as if they couldn't wait. I want to feel that I am pure desire in other people's hands. And I don't care if it's right or wrong. I just know it makes me wet. I love to talk me dirty, to throw me against the wall, to tell me exactly what they want me for. The more explicit, the better. The more indecent, the more my heart beats. I don't want sweetness. I don't want tenderness. I want someone to know what to do with me and do it. And yeah, sometimes I want to be seen losing control too. To hear how I moan without thinking. To look at me with that face of lust when I can't take it anymore.

Last night I couldn't take it. I had that hot anxiety rising up my chest, going right down between my legs. I writhed in bed, with my clothes on, as if that was enough to calm him. It was not enough. It's never enough. Not when I'm like this, so wet, so damned inside. I left the dim light on. Not to see me. but because it warms me to imagine that someone might be watching. I imagined a silhouette standing at the door, arms crossed, saying nothing. Just watching me open, moaning slowly with my breath shaking. You didn't have to touch me yet. Just the idea of being seen. So cheeky, so needy, I was already losing control. I took off my clothes like I was burning. The shirt fell to the ground, the pants followed, and there I was, naked, with hard nipples and wet, hot crotch. tan ready. I opened my legs without shame. I caressed myself slowly, without haste, feeling how all the heat accumulated where I most wanted it.. I was not in a hurry because I knew I was going to cum several times. I could feel it in the way my thighs tightened, in the way my back curved just imagining what was coming next..

I look at myself in the bathroom mirror, still panting gently after my exercise routine. The sweat shines on my skin like hot oil. The reflection gives me back the image of a woman who loves herself, who has worked for every curve, every muscle, every drop of desire that now runs through my body.. I wear only a towel carelessly wrapped around my hips. I look down slowly and see my breasts still upright, my skin tight and red from the heat of the workout.. Nipples have hardened, sensitive. I like to look like this: powerful, alive, burning.

I run my fingers down my collarbone, down the center of my chest, leaving a moist, warm trail. I caress myself like a lover who worships me, but there's no one else. Just me. And that turns me on even more. I walk to the bed without removing my towel, feeling how the friction between my thighs already leaves evidence of my desire.. I lie on the soft sheets and let my body relax, breathe. I want to take my time. I want to enjoy every second of me. I let my hands explore aimlessly at first. I caress my thighs, I squeeze them a little, I feel how they still vibrate from the effort. My fingers slowly rise up my flat belly, following that invisible line that leads me to the center of my pleasure.. My hips are already moving without noticing, asking me to come down more.

When my fingers rub my wet lips, I let out a low, hoarse moan, so mine. I'm so wet. I rub myself gently, opening carefully, as if I were caressing a sacred secret. I play with my clitoris in slow, small circles, savoring the tingling that intensifies with every movement.. I feel a deep warmth growing inside me, like a sweet electric current running from my pelvis to my neck.. I bite my lip and close my eyes, letting go. I imagine myself from the outside: a naked woman, beautiful, given to the pleasure of touching herself, of feeling without guilt, without trouble.. I run a finger through my entrance and I shudder. My moisture sticks to my skin like a confession. I penetrate with one finger at first, slowly, exploring. Then another comes in. My walls contract, my breathing speeds up.

My other hand doesn't sit still. I caress my breasts, squeeze them, play with my nipples until I feel a pull of pleasure that makes me bow my back. I touch myself as if every part of my body were the key to something sacred, as if I didn’t want to leave any sensation untasted.. My legs are shaking. My whole body is on fire. I speed up the rhythm, my fingers going in and out as I rub my clit with delicious despair.. I yawn higher and higher. I'm about to. I'm sorry.. That sweet and wild tension that spirals inside me, as if the world was going to break in pleasure. And then. I'm coming. A deep orgasm that runs through me like a hot wave. My back bows, my hips shake involuntarily, and a deep, authentic moan comes out of my throat.. I let go completely, shaking, soaking my fingers and the sheets, with my heart beating between my legs.

I've always been told I'm a tender girl. That there is something in my way of looking, in my way of speaking low, in my shy laughter, that provokes protection and sweetness. But what not everyone knows what I myself am beginning to understand is that under all that delicacy there is a curiosity that grows like a wild flower, silent and urgent.. A need to feel more, to explore more, to live my body without limits or shame. My body is soft, sensitive, molded by a sweet and warm femininity. My breasts are round and firm, perfect for slow rubbing and prolonged caresses. My skin reacts with ease; a light rub on my neck, a subtle pressure on my hips, a warm whisper in my ear. everything hedges me, makes me close my eyes and open my soul. I am discovering myself as someone who not only enjoys pleasure, but seeks it with quiet hunger, with sincere desire.

Sometimes I lock myself alone, in silence, and let my hands become explorers. You also live alone. I like to look at myself in the mirror, observe my silhouette, follow with my fingers the contour of my curves. I caress my thighs, belly, breasts, with a mixture of tenderness and boldness, as if I were playing to provoke my own desire.. It works and. It always works.. I get wet, I open, I shiver with my own caresses. It's not just physical, it's not just flesh. It is emotion. It is identity. I feel that with every orgasm I give myself, I understand myself better. I feel more connected to myself. There is a part of me that is activated when I allow myself to enjoy without guilt, when I stop thinking and just feel.. Sex, for me, is a whole universe, and I'm just starting to travel its first landscapes. The most beautiful thing about this trip is that I'm not afraid. I don't want to run, I don't want to pretend I know it all. I like the idea of learning, letting myself be taught, discovering new pleasures through real experiences. I want to try different ways to be touched, different ways to moan, different ways to give and receive. Every time I let myself be carried away by desire, I feel that I grow, that I blossom a little more.

I'm aware there's a very naughty part inside of me. It is not vulgarity or empty provocation. It's a soft, almost naive, but very dangerous malice. I like to play with gestures, with silences, with insinuations. I like to bite my lip when something turns me on, look down knowing that someone is watching me, let my movements speak for me. My body wants to be admired, desired. but also wants to figure out how to surrender and dominate at the same time. In my fantasies there's whispering, broken laughter, skin against skin. I imagine myself losing control, letting myself go by someone who knows how to read my body like a map, who understands my times, who guides me without forcing me, who devours me with respect and passion.. I want to feel so desired that I tremble. I want my own desire to surprise me, that my tenderness becomes lust and my curiosity in ecstasy.

I want to have many first times. Soft, intense, sweet, daring first times. I want to kiss in new ways, try new positions, feel pleasure in places I have not yet dared to explore. I want to scream and also stay silent, shudder until I cry with joy, laugh in the middle of sex, lose myself in the body of another without losing myself. And above all, I want to do it with an open heart. I'm not looking for empty or fast sex. I look for the one that feels deep, the one that not only wets the body, but also the soul. The one that leaves me with my legs shaking and my chest full. I want to leave each meeting feeling more alive, more woman, more aware of what I am capable of feeling.