The disgustingly beautiful form of the modelesque Monica Bellucci, a complete and exquisitely woven formulation of female energy, the swirl of particles that collide and swim to project the sexy iconic figure of this muse.
Just the default expression of her creates a feeling of tentilization in the soul, which connects down to the loins and leads the mind possessed, to think in lustful manner that must be contained but strives to break free, exploding from its source.
A warm animalistic rage, one which rushes blood to the phallus and saliva to the lips, this is the result. These must be tempered, and controlled as one remembers his gentleman.
This woman appears more as if she was created with the simple gift of remaining sexy in all of her waking moments, as if it were a skill. An ongoing distracting energy to the masculine of spirit, or the feminine in tune with her inner masculinity leading her off to gaze at the curves of the lips, chest and hips of this feline goddess.
Surely, it is hard to not be wrapped up in the magic which is Monica, surely it is hard to find one who naturally compares to such a glowing emanation of seductive fiery spirit.
ACT: Monica Bellucci