Often times, sexiness is mostly seen as something related to how much flesh is shown bare and how much flexibilities and curves that one's body could make.
Often times too, it is also closely related to one's physical features.
Perfectly red and glittery bee-stung lips; strong and shiny long wavy hair; stunningly solid and curvy, tall body, breathtaking long, soft fair-skinned legs, set aside for the extremely extravagant bosoms and buttocks that stupefy those who have the chance to take even only a glance at.
But to me, as I grew up over the years, I started to admit that my interests towards physical beauty, no matter how attractive they could be, are declining. My taste for outer sexiness went downhill quite some time ago, and some other definition of sexiness started to develop.
That is what I personally call sexiness, purely redefined.
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As though I said that my view towards sexiness is no longer physically-oriented, I must admit that certain sexiness that one shows may strongly still be physical.
Sexy is when she holds her oversize cappuccino cup with both her hands while her fingers wrap around the cup firmly, as she draws the cup to her finely-glossed lips and takes a sip while closing both her eyes, and draws the cup away, leaving an obvious thin line of milk mustache just right in between her lips and nose.
Sexy is when she sits by herself with her hair freely blown by the wind as she looks far and smiling away towards every pleasing little things that come passing in her eyes.
Sexy is when she comes and hugs me from behind slowly while wrapping both her arms around my neck as she conceals her face into my hair and sinks her lips onto my cheeks, bringing in all the sensational scent deep into my nostril and into my lungs.
Sexy is when she sits at the corner of the couch with both her legs bended close to her body and leans her head on my chest as she hugs the pillow tight and cries slowly over that terribly sad love story they show often on late night movies.
Sexy is when she stands by the home gate fully-wrapped in her long silk-made sleeping attire as she tilts her head to a side, waves goodbye and smiles at me right before I leave home to work in such cold, early morning, her face slowly disappears as the car strides away, going afar from home, away from the ardor and sentiment of her existence.
Sexy is when she slowly slips and buries herself in my hugs during such terrifyingly cold, stormy night; I feel the warmth of her body radiating, her scent blanketing me over, her breath sweeps onto my neck briefly as she slowly departs deep into her world of cherry blossom dreams until the morning comes.
Sexy is when she sleeps like a little baby.
Sexy is she.
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So tell me; how me seksi?