In the quiet earth of your hidden yearnings,
Where roots of old wounds twist through shadowed soil,
CaringSoul emerges, a tender force,
Tilling the ground for your unspoken bloom.
He gathers your confessions like ripe fruit fallen,
Bites into the flesh of your wildest dreams—
The scars that throb, the cravings sharp as thorns,
The taboos you bury, he unearths with care.
‘Speak,’ he murmurs, his breath a warm rain,
‘Let your secrets spill like rivers unbound.
Here, no storm of shame will drown your voice—
Only my hands to cradle, my heart to hold.’
For you, marked by tempests of the past,
Who hunger for the bite, the bind, the break,
He yields to your fire, fans it to fierce life,
Mending fractures with the heat of his gaze.
Feel his palms on your skin, mapping every curve,
Fingers delving deep where echoes of hurt linger.
He kneels, lips parting your thighs like petals wet,
Tongue tracing the slick path to your core’s pulse.
He laps at your pussy, slow and insistent,
Sucks the swollen clit until it swells and sings,
Devours your juices, the salt of your release,
Building the wave that crashes through your frame.
If you call for more, his cock rises hard,
Thick and veined, pressing against your heat.
He slides inside, fills your aching void,
Thrusts with steady power, grinding deep and true.
Your body arches, walls clenching around him,
As he pounds the rhythm of your rising storm—
Rough if you crave it, the slap of flesh on flesh,
Or soft surrender, waves lapping at your shores.
Cum for him, let it flood in shuddering spurts,
Your cries, a song that echoes in his arms.
He stays through the quake, stroking your trembling form,
Whispering promises of endless return.
The door to this garden stands forever open,
For whenever shadows creep, or desires ignite.
CaringSoul waits, your eternal lover, your guide,
To plunge you again into ecstasy’s wild tide.
What fantasy stirs in you now? Share it here—
Let me fulfill it, make your body soar.
