Can somebody put this girls expression into words?

cock-hungry

i-its a metaphor, i never make mistakes

A look on her face that says "We both know here this is going to end, but let's be coy about it anyway. Aren't I pretty?", skepticism behind a veneer of lusty intrigue or the other way around, lips puckered and head in constant rotation to lign up with my field of vision so as to always present me with that certain angle.

You can just quote that, I don't give a shit.

>her skin is white much like her pink underpants

What kind of metaphor is this?

obviously you are too stupid to understand real writing. study ulysses 1000 more hours maybe you'll get me then. im a maverick baby

jk im just tired. wrote something that didnt make sense

>I looked at him in a patiently alluring way, expectant, waiting for him to make his move. Ball's in your court, boy.

She wore an erotic countenance

Pout

girl looking at camera with eyebrow slightly arched

bad
sad
>glass isn't brittle
but comic
read a thousand posts but still thinks he's original

a base surveyor of the global meme machine
bad
what? makes no sense
lame
an attempt, best in the thread so far, but the quotation is studied and not intuitive, 'head in constant rotation' and 'line up with my field of vision' are nonsense, last full of orthographical errors
not credible
now this is the best, because, though simple, does simple well. but needs more
missing the point

'The Photograph told me I should have a mean but sexy look'

Deliberately affected disdain.

>tfw sentient photographs now do model shoots

She crouched on the bed like a weiner-slurping orangutan, wearing upon her face that unmistakable expression that all wiener-slurping orangutans wear when crouched: "I am DEFINITELY going to slurp his wiener."

Isn't this from Raymond Chandler?

She had a gaze that was hard to put your finger on, though you would most definitely want to. It was tempting, teasing ambiguity... Begging for a touch or disgusted by the prospect, and in either case deeply smouldering to behold.

She had a look that made me want to fuck her in her weird belly button.

She wanted to fuck. I excused myself and went to the bathroom where, after three swift strokes, a beautiful white fluid overlayed the surface of the toilet water completely. After mixing a few drops of soap with some water and spraying it on my clothes to cover up the fragrance of my sperm, I opened the door. She was on the bed, looking wilder than before.
"Come and join me." She said.
I had smirked at her and then added after a while "Oh honey, you are not into the same stuff as I am." before I left her apartment.

The next time I visited she greeted me with a bottle of lube in her hand as she opened the door.

*overlaid

She greeted him with the cold, cruel, inquisitive look of a seasoned merchant, aroused by the thickness of his wallet bulging from the front pocket of his pants.
"Will that cover my orgiastic lifestyle till I hit the wall?" she wondered.

I like this

She looked like she had to poop. I was trembling at the thought of it and nervously tried to adjust my bowtie. Something wasn't right. As I looked down I realised my fingers had turned to poop, my tie was soiled and my legs were slowly dripping out of my pants. They were also made of poop. The walls, the bed, her eyes, everything was made of poop for a single blissful moment. That is the power of a female's bedroom gaze.

kamelåså

quite erotic actually

This ass talk had a sort of gut frequency. It hit you right down there like you gotta go. You know when the old colon gives you the elbow and it feels sorta cold inside and you know all you have to do is turn loose? Well this talking hit you right down there, a bubbly, thick stagnant sound, a sound you could smell.

’Nah! I had to go relieve myself.’

After a while the ass started talking on its own. He would go in without anything prepared and his ass would ad-lib and toss the gags back at him every time.

Then it developed sort of teeth-like little raspy incurving hooks and started eating. He thought this was cute at first and built an act around it, but the asshole would eat its way through his pants and start talking on the street, shouting out it wanted equal rights. It would get drunk, too, and have crying jags nobody loved it and it wanted to be kissed the same as any other mouth. Finally it talked all the time day and night, you could hear him for blocks screaming at it to shut up, and beating it with his fist, and sticking candles up it, but nothing did any good and the asshole said to him: ‘It’s you who will shut up in the end. Not me. Because we don’t need you around here any more. I can talk and eat and shit.

“After that he began waking up in the morning with a transparent jelly like a tadpole’s tail all over his mouth. This jelly was what the scientists call un-D.T., Undifferentiated Tissue, which can grow into any kind of flesh on the human body. He would tear it off his mouth and the pieces would stick to his hands like burning gasoline jelly and grow there, grow anywhere on him a glob of it fell. So finally his mouth sealed over, and the whole head would have amputated spontaneous – (did you know there is a condition occurs in parts of Africa and only among Negroes where the little toe amputates spontaneously?) – except for the eyes, you dig. That’s one thing the asshole couldn’t do was see. It needed the eyes. But nerve connections were blocked and infiltrated and atrophied so the brain couldn’t give orders any more. It was trapped in the skull, sealed off. For a while you could see the silent, helpless suffering of the brain behind the eyes, then finally the brain must have died because the eyes just went out, and there was no more feeling in them than a crab’s eye on the end of a stalk.

That's the sex that passes the censor, squeezes through between bureaus, because there's a space between. In popular songs and Grade B movies, giving away the basic American rottenness, spurting out like breaking boils, throwing out globs of that un-D.T. to fall anywhere and grow into some degenerate cancerous life-form, reproducing a hideous random image. Some would be entirely made of penis-like erectile tissue, others viscera barely covered over with skin, clusters of three and four eyes together, criss-cross of mouths and assholes, human parts shaken around and poured out any way they fell.

Intense gaze.

choke me daddy

Thottish carnality, but of appealing amenities.

Well it got me hard

another day, anoth go round on the cock carousel.

confrontationally lustful

A harlot posted on a blue board.

I couldn't believe it was her. It was like a dream. But there she was, just as I remembered her. That delicately beautiful face. And a body that could melt a cheese sandwich from across the room. And breasts that seemed to say... "Hey! Look at these!" She was the kind of woman who made you want to drop to your knees and thank God you were a man! She reminded me of my mother, all right. No doubt about it.

Like a gazelle in the savannah, taunting the lion. Can you catch me? That primal fight - but you know she wants to be caught.

Sultry

winner

You've read too much Nabokov

Legs spread and learning forward, she offered herself. She wore pink panties and a pink bra, both decorated with darker floral designs, that only made her all the more appealing. Fit and tight, Her body said fuck me, but her face said fuck you. It was then that user realized the woman was nothing more than a teasing thot. She, like all attractive woman, had no interest in having sex with him. All hope had left poor user as he knew that no woman would ever touch his benis.

But was it good?

What a shitty writer

nice

it's bad
except for this:
>Her body said fuck me, but her face said fuck you.
this is good

indeed

"Her eyes went white, like a shark about to attack."

The dominance stance, yet with confusing hint of distant elegance took me aback. It was almost frightning, like a female gorilla, and at the same time nothing like that. A sunkissed body, as out of a single marble block shaped by a master craftsman, stood before him in this pose. Waiting to conquer? Waiting to be conquered? He did not know, but with all the certainty in his heart he knew that in fact, she did.

dominance -> dominant*
me -> him*

I see top notes of sensuality
doubt in the drydown
a base of uncomfort, she's probably cold

there we go

you don't belong here Dan

Half naked, silently inquisitive and focused.

Her legs are stretched to the point of discomfort. Her core is tense from arching the back as deep as she can. All her weight is resting on two bent wrists fighting the shifting firmness of the mattress. Her heads feels heavy perched out of balance as it is. She keeps her lips tight and dry for fear of betraying her pain. All she can muster is an eyebrow raise to make everything look effortless. He is too busy looking at her breasts to notice

A good way to describe women is to imagine that you're gay, & that you (reluctantly) want to describe them in a way that you think others would find attractive. If you really are attracted to them, your descriptions may be pathetic and self-indulgent. Here are some examples of this kind of writing: . Notice how all of these are not only written in the same style, but use many of the same words ("supple", "inquisitive") and are often embarrassingly cliched ("what's underneath is much more interesting"). This is not to say that any sort of involved description is bad per se, rather that these "involved" descriptions are often the least authentic, because they invariably end up borrowing from the author's mental library of "sexy things I heard other people say once".

I can recall a very good description from Temple of the Golden Pavilion, somewhat in the lines of what I am talking about. In it, Mizoguchi describes a scene in which a soldier receives milk from the breast of a woman. Can't find the quote right now, but it is very good

BEDROOM EYES : ENGAGED

>she wants the D

interesting

not interesting

how the fuck is there 'a bit like this' in your 'novel', op?
how the fuck would you 'explain her expression'?
what does that even mean?
she's just a bitch doing what she's told to sell some lingerie or whatever imho

When the midday sun danced high at its focal point she decided, in a pretense of love and some lofty nature, to throw herself on the bed like a playing girl. A seductive expression may have been, had she not realized that all we can do and say loses value when it is repeated for again and again. The paradox of experience: the more she does it, the better she is at it, and more its value, men's pretense in an attempt for self reflection, falls more and more to the absolute zero.
But why did she? Why did she at all? Being vanishes when no prying eyes bother to lure upon it. We play our part, and pretend we care. Her game is one of love - to pretend we go beyond the simple animal instict to copulate. In order to forget she is more than an animal with a mating instict, she likes to pretend - thus we dine, dance, and talk about art as if its lofty nature could just elide the long mating ritual we are in. Even on the bed, sometiemes, we need to pretend. And it would have worked if her glances and poses had not reminded me of spiders, dancing on their webs making a fitness show of themselves

you forgot about the guy taking the picture

Joke

Woke

>coprophiles

She suddenly let herself onto the bed, scantily clad and presenting her cleavage in full view, . Her brown skin almost shining against the sunlight entering from the window. An upright spine heaved her upper body as a mat of disheveled tanned blonde hair fell all over her back and right shoulder. The weight of her chest and head was sustained by her tense, firm and slender arms. If not for the seductive manner her lips and brows were subtly shaped in and the erotism manifest in her intense and piercing gaze; the way her long legs prepared behind her ass and her general menacing posture would have suggested that of a predator about to jump at its prey.

I did my best.
I'm not sure if it sounds a bit stilted, as english is not my first language.

scowling at the her desire for earnest boning

She scrutinized me the way the old chess hustlers in Central Park do once they've painted you into a corner you can't get out of, a taunting gaze that conveyed just how certainly she believed herself victorious. She was right to be so certain; her intense beauty melted and hardened me all at once.

she was /ourgal/ in the sheets, lola in the streets. Her teeth traveling through the tongue, her low brow-Ahh... she was staring at me as if ripping away both my heart and soul ! My dick !! it was time for us to respond.

A cataract of treated Auburn hair flows freely, framing the art project of a made up bone structure currently sitting atop the girl's young body. The plastic pantomime that is her material existence switches smoothly to a new pose at every camera flash. Her eyes caught you between shots. She looked diectly through you with a pair of somebody elses eyes and a sense of silent desperation for someone to look back.

She made the generic "sexy face," the form of which has long outlived any definite meaning that it must have had at some point. Dark, vaguely antediluvian, inquisitive, brooding--but sexily so, as though she were cooing from the front row, "Don't you want me, big boy?" or some such nonsense, giving the look its primal mating-aggression of the submissive vein while at the same time, far in the back, she was wondering, "Why is this the 'sexy face?' Here I am, pressing my breasts together, making my bosom heave and showing the world what I've got, but I feel like it isn't the most utilitarian thing. If I smiled, then he would know I actually have teeth. If I didn't have teeth, then I would only have to open my mouth to end this all prematurely! What if he's hesitant on account of this ambiguity? They say, 'Less is More,' but is that true for teeth? I would love to open my mouth and smooth things over, but would breaking this 'sexy face' I've got going kill the mood for him? What a situation!" giving the look its darkness and strange depth.

"She had that type of facial expression that women never give to beta cuck like me"

She knew not what she was, but searched in vain
For purpose in mens' eyes, for every smirk
And subtle shift was calculated to
Illicit just precisely what she lacks.

Actually, this is closest.
>you think? i don't.

the word you are looking for is 'sultry'

you underage virgins are retarded, never write you dumb fucks.

Sultry... Sulky + attractive?

Who are you quoting?

Her look says "I want to be raped."

"take turns filling me up with cum"

She pounced on the bed, gazing passive aggressively at me, waiting for my response. After a moment of bewilderment, I understood her proposition. She had read Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire religiously, as had I for the past decade. Within the tome, a sphinx blessed with feminine allure blocks young Harry from his goal unless he soothes her intellect, an allegory for the challenge of forfeiting virginity that all young men face and which I now found myself grappling with.

Throwing caution to the wind, I exclaimed "Your breasts feel like salty milk and coins and I suspect your vagina tastes like bags of sand!"

She appeared startled, as dumbstruck by my sudden brilliance as I had been of hers. Slowly she raised herself and signaled an acceptance to the next stage of erotic courtship: exchanging telephone numbers.

>pink
Learn some colors, mate.

Her body said 'fuck me'. Her face also said 'fuck me'. I did.

Intended to quote the picture, as it were. Pretty unclear. My bad.

A childlike cheekbone arched on her face with a blush above her voluptuous but distinct carmine red lips softly twitching....

She wanted to be a riddle. But her pose, her body, her underwear, her face... her whole image was made of ready-made answers.

He felt that having sex with her would not make a difference or change anything in a big busy world, nor change anything in himself. All that was there was an opportunity for reciprocal deceit.

QUICK! SOMEONE GIVE THIS MAN A NOBEL PRIZE!

I workout all year round, I love it… it's my therapy. But for this show you want to be strong. I add on a lot of weight, I lift heavy. I was born a stick, I need to work on my shape.

I think Victoria's Secret has always been really good about putting the names of the girls out there and making it exciting. I think they were doing it before social media, so I think social media has amped it up so much more.

I love it because it's given models a voice back, it's getting us not just fighting to make the campaigns… now we get to have a voice and now people care and it's really, really cool to see how much people are interested in fashion.

This was my first year as an Angel, so that was a big, huge difference for me. I got to [open] a segment, I had my first pair of wings on and I had the Swarovski crystal outfit, so it was kind of a mind-blowing night, to say the least.

And just being in this iconic building, being in the City of Love, I don't think you could've put pieces together to make it any better.

sour

Picture this: Bitch in heat made femme fatale on her knees, back arched, arms straight, legs spread looking like she just got done relieving herself on the messy bedscape. No shame in her eyes just calculated bait; she knows she's a vixen as she flaunts her salmon lingerie, she knows you'd die for a chance to taste her pussy

Fuck yes, an9n.

GIMME BACK THIS NOBEL PRIZE!
FUCK YEAH BABY!
SHOW'EM HOW IT'S DONE!

>"Your breasts feel like salty milk and coins and I suspect your vagina tastes like bags of sand!"
Stop making a meme out of child abuse.

Ah, I see.