ONWA (breath catching, fingertips grazing his jawline):
I read your text about tonight. Tell me properly—what’s the blueprint?"
ORIAKU (lips brushing her ear, hands anchoring her hips):
Every bite you took today—
The eggs and meats,
The broccoli kissing your inflammation,
The fish flooding your blood with want—That was my love letter.
Tonight isn’t seggs.
It’s resurrection.
Your body’s been craving the storm we brew when your cortisol drops…and your pulse chases mine.
ONWA (shuddering):
How do you want me, Asa?
ORIAKU (voice molten, palms sliding up her spine ):
Alive. Liquid.
Screaming with sound.
I’ve spent hours plotting how to peel you open—not with hands, my man. With patience.
That avocado you ate at noon?
It’s thrumming in your veins now, slicking your chest for me.
I didn’t just meal-prep your plate—
I engineered your er*ction,
your sweat, the way you’ll sob my name when your cortisol crashes and your climax soars.
ONWA (gasping, nails digging):
Babym—why are we still dressed?
ORIAKU (biting her lip, alluring):
Wait. Let the anticipation build.
Every second your gut churns those probiotics, your desire ferments darker.
I want you starving.
I want your microbiome screaming for my tongue. Celebrating your balanced blood sugar, I want to feel every thrust in my bones.
This isn’t a plea—
It’s biology perfected.
ORIAKU (whimpering):
Onwa— I'm all yours. Have my body.
ONWA (growling, gripping her hair):
Listen. When I finally start driving you?
It’ll be a sacrament.
Your collagen-rich skin against mine.
My magnesium-fueled muscles clenching.
Your hormones—high, steady, savage—will make you addicted to how I rupture you. You’ll come harder because you ate right. And fed me ready.
ORIAKU (arching, desperate):
Take me inside. I can't wait anymore.
ONWA (smirking, stepping back):
Come. Fast.
Let the sprint spike your nitric oxide.
I’ll be there…slow…precise…ready to vitalize every cell you fueled for this.
For the protein you fed me will make me levitate your body tonight.
This is beyond a conversation—
This is a revelation,
A dialogue where nutrition isn’t just science—it’s a foreplay groom that rewrites our DNA.
(Silence. Then the crash of keys, a slammed door, the universe holding its breath, shut down is assured).
#shakabulous weekend
I read your text about tonight. Tell me properly—what’s the blueprint?"
ORIAKU (lips brushing her ear, hands anchoring her hips):
Every bite you took today—
The eggs and meats,
The broccoli kissing your inflammation,
The fish flooding your blood with want—That was my love letter.
Tonight isn’t seggs.
It’s resurrection.
Your body’s been craving the storm we brew when your cortisol drops…and your pulse chases mine.
ONWA (shuddering):
How do you want me, Asa?
ORIAKU (voice molten, palms sliding up her spine ):
Alive. Liquid.
Screaming with sound.
I’ve spent hours plotting how to peel you open—not with hands, my man. With patience.
That avocado you ate at noon?
It’s thrumming in your veins now, slicking your chest for me.
I didn’t just meal-prep your plate—
I engineered your er*ction,
your sweat, the way you’ll sob my name when your cortisol crashes and your climax soars.
ONWA (gasping, nails digging):
Babym—why are we still dressed?
ORIAKU (biting her lip, alluring):
Wait. Let the anticipation build.
Every second your gut churns those probiotics, your desire ferments darker.
I want you starving.
I want your microbiome screaming for my tongue. Celebrating your balanced blood sugar, I want to feel every thrust in my bones.
This isn’t a plea—
It’s biology perfected.
ORIAKU (whimpering):
Onwa— I'm all yours. Have my body.
ONWA (growling, gripping her hair):
Listen. When I finally start driving you?
It’ll be a sacrament.
Your collagen-rich skin against mine.
My magnesium-fueled muscles clenching.
Your hormones—high, steady, savage—will make you addicted to how I rupture you. You’ll come harder because you ate right. And fed me ready.
ORIAKU (arching, desperate):
Take me inside. I can't wait anymore.
ONWA (smirking, stepping back):
Come. Fast.
Let the sprint spike your nitric oxide.
I’ll be there…slow…precise…ready to vitalize every cell you fueled for this.
For the protein you fed me will make me levitate your body tonight.
This is beyond a conversation—
This is a revelation,
A dialogue where nutrition isn’t just science—it’s a foreplay groom that rewrites our DNA.
(Silence. Then the crash of keys, a slammed door, the universe holding its breath, shut down is assured).
#shakabulous weekend
ONWA (breath catching, fingertips grazing his jawline):
I read your text about tonight. Tell me properly—what’s the blueprint?"
ORIAKU (lips brushing her ear, hands anchoring her hips):
Every bite you took today—
The eggs and meats,
The broccoli kissing your inflammation,
The fish flooding your blood with want—That was my love letter.
Tonight isn’t seggs.
It’s resurrection.
Your body’s been craving the storm we brew when your cortisol drops…and your pulse chases mine.
ONWA (shuddering):
How do you want me, Asa?
ORIAKU (voice molten, palms sliding up her spine ):
Alive. Liquid.
Screaming with sound.
I’ve spent hours plotting how to peel you open—not with hands, my man. With patience.
That avocado you ate at noon?
It’s thrumming in your veins now, slicking your chest for me.
I didn’t just meal-prep your plate—
I engineered your er*ction,
your sweat, the way you’ll sob my name when your cortisol crashes and your climax soars.
ONWA (gasping, nails digging):
Babym—why are we still dressed?
ORIAKU (biting her lip, alluring):
Wait. Let the anticipation build.
Every second your gut churns those probiotics, your desire ferments darker.
I want you starving.
I want your microbiome screaming for my tongue. Celebrating your balanced blood sugar, I want to feel every thrust in my bones.
This isn’t a plea—
It’s biology perfected.
ORIAKU (whimpering):
Onwa— I'm all yours. Have my body.
ONWA (growling, gripping her hair):
Listen. When I finally start driving you?
It’ll be a sacrament.
Your collagen-rich skin against mine.
My magnesium-fueled muscles clenching.
Your hormones—high, steady, savage—will make you addicted to how I rupture you. You’ll come harder because you ate right. And fed me ready.
ORIAKU (arching, desperate):
Take me inside. I can't wait anymore.
ONWA (smirking, stepping back):
Come. Fast.
Let the sprint spike your nitric oxide.
I’ll be there…slow…precise…ready to vitalize every cell you fueled for this.
For the protein you fed me will make me levitate your body tonight.
This is beyond a conversation—
This is a revelation,
A dialogue where nutrition isn’t just science—it’s a foreplay groom that rewrites our DNA.
(Silence. Then the crash of keys, a slammed door, the universe holding its breath, shut down is assured).
#shakabulous weekend
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