"Con mi," she whispers, her eyes closed, imagining a lover's touch. She's not picky; she'll take it any way she can. Her breasts heave, nipples hardening as she fantasizes about a mouth on them, teeth grazing, sucking. She's always been this way, always will be. Her hand slides down, fingers finding that sweet spot, rubbing, pressing, seeking the climax that never seems to satisfy her. She's a primal force, a creature of pure, unending lust.