Swishy skirt. Big earrings. Showing a little breast over my top. Sensual. You want to reach in and feel my breast and flip it out and s*** my n*****. You want me on my back on the grass in the park. Pulling my nickers over my ankles. You want to mount me as I stare back accusingly. Unmoving. Eyes full of contempt for your weakness. None of this happens and the moment passes. I know you w*** off at home fantasising of me. Every detail of me etched in your mind. This is the curse of being an attractive woman.