My body was made to be fucked

You're looking at a petite body that seems almost engineered for exactly what the title promises — compact, curved in every place that pulls your attention, impossible to look away from.

You feel it before you can explain it, that specific hunger that starts behind your eyes and moves lower, the kind this particular frame triggers without trying.

You want your hands to cover every inch of it, to test how perfectly it fits against you, under you, around you — your instincts already deciding things your mind hasn't caught up to yet.