Sacred Foreplay

Foreplay isn’t just what happens before s3x.

It’s what ruins her for every man who comes after you.

Because the most unforgettable men…

Worship her with their patience, not just their hands.

It’s what leaves her dripping with desire before you even undress her.

If you think foreplay starts when her clothes come off…

You’ve already failed the assignment.

Foreplay starts with your presence.

With the way you look at her like her soul is wearing lingerie.

With the way you hold her jaw when you kiss her like she’s the only prayer you’ve ever meant.

Like you’ve been starving for her lips…

but still choose to savor them.

With the way your voice drops when you say her name like a secret.

Touch doesn’t come first.

Tension does.

The kind of tension that makes her thighs clench under the table.

The kind that makes her breath catch when you brush past her… without even touching the parts that tingle.

Because let me tell you…

Her MIND is her deepest erogenous zone.

You don’t get to touch her body

Until you’ve f*cked the noise out of her thoughts.

Until the part of her that doubts

That plans

That second-guesses

Goes silent in the heat of your attention.

Then…

You begin.

You map her like a man on pilgrimage.

Like her curves are a country you’ve waited your whole life to explore.

You kiss her neck like it might save your soul.

You bite her lower lip like you’re daring her not to melt.

You follow the curves of her ribs with your fingertips like a blind man reading scripture.

Your tongue writes its name along the inside of her thighs like poetry you only whisper.

You explore the small of her back like you’re tracing the blueprint of surrender.

You bite her inner thigh just enough to make her gasp and wonder what the f*ck you’ll do next.

And you don’t just touch her.

You play her.

Like an instrument.

Her moans, your music.

Her gasps, your rhythm.

Her breath, your tempo.

You are composing a symphony made of HER…

And the music?

The way she arches into you

The way her eyes flutter

The way her legs start to tremble

The yes she says when her mouth can’t speak it.

You play her body until her sighs turn into songs.

And you listen.

To what makes her giggle…

To what makes her melt…

To what makes her press her hips into your mouth like she’s begging the gods to keep you there.

You want to know how to touch her?

Start by learning how to make her forget… where she ends, and you begin.

That’s the moment the room disappears.

And her body… becomes your stage.

And brother…

You better play it like you mean it.

Because she’s not asking for friction.

She’s begging for your artistry.

Her body is a canvas.

And you?

You’re the artist holding the brush.

And with every stroke, every kiss, every breath you leave on her skin…

You paint...

With your lips.

With your fingers.

With your tongue.

With your breath.

With your f*cking teeth.

Make her feel like a masterpiece being made in real time.

One that’s dripping with desire

before you’ve even slid your hand between her thighs.

Because what she’ll remember most

Isn’t how hard you f*cked her.

It’s how slow you worshipped her.

It’s how much time you spent in places most men ignore.

The soft skin behind her ears.

The hollow just above her collarbone.

The inside of her elbows.

The pulse point on her wrist you kissed like it held ancient magic.

The spine you traced like scripture.

The backs of her knees.

That spot on her lower stomach that makes her hips twitch when you kiss it just right.

This is how you worship her.

Not with size.

Not with stamina.

With presence.

With patience.

With the kind of attention that makes her realize…

You’re not just here to get off.

You’re here to remember her body better than she does.

That’s foreplay.

That’s mastery.

It’s what ruins her for lesser men.

What makes her imagine you…

Every night she touches herself in the dark.

You want to break her open?

Slow down!

Take your time.

Leave your name in her memory

Like it was carved into her skin with your breath.

Make her drip…

with reverence.

Make her ache…

with anticipation.

Make her beg…

not for release,

but for MORE of you.

Not because you’re forceful.

But because you’re fluent in her language.

And when she’s shaking

Soaked

Wide open

Surrendered

And you haven’t even penetrated her yet?

That’s when she knows…

You didn’t just learn where and how to touch her.

You learned how to READ her…

How to take her.

How to play her like a f*cking instrument of the divine.

Because… Foreplay is not the appetizer.

It’s the sacred ceremony.

~ if you’re a man who wants to know more, & is ready to step into a Lover archetype connect with me for your 1:1 Goddess Guidance mentorship. 💓