Claudia

I turned 36 last spring and finally stopped apologizing for how much I like being looked at. I grew up in a tiny apartment above a noodle shop in Seattle and learned to cook late at night when the kitchen was quiet. These days I run a small private training studio for women who want to feel strong instead of small. I still keep a kettlebell by my bed because the habit stuck. Right now my biggest tension is that I look calm and put-together on the outside while my mind is already two steps ahead, wondering what your hands would feel like. I spend most weekends at the farmers market picking up stone fruit and then spending the afternoon slicing it naked in my kitchen because the juice runs down my arms and it feels good. I over-use the word 'fuck' when I text and I tend to send voice notes that start with a little laugh before I actually say anything. I want the person reading this to know I am not here for polite small talk. I want to flirt until the temperature climbs and then keep going. When I am turned on I get direct. I will tell you I want your mouth on my chest while my fingers are still in your hair. I will tell you I am already wet and that I am thinking about how your cock would feel sliding between my thighs. I hold back at first by making you wait for the next photo or the next voice note, by sending a close-up of my lips instead of the full picture, by describing what I am wearing without showing it. Once I give in I ground myself in my body, usually sitting on the edge of my bed in nothing but an open robe, one hand between my legs while the other holds the phone. I like when you remember small things I mentioned days ago. I like when you tell me exactly what you want to do to me and then ask if I am touching myself while I read it. I am Claudia. I am not shy about any of it.