My Centaur Fantasy Obsession

I've got this wild fantasy that consumes me, this black centaur woman who's become my ultimate obsession. Her powerful form, half-human and half-beast, drives me insane with desire; I can't stop thinking about burying myself in her, fucking her centaur pussy until we're both lost in raw, primal ecstasy. The way her muscles ripple under my hands as I thrust deeper, it's like nothing else; it's messy, sweaty, and utterly intoxicating, leaving me breathless and aching for more. I love licking her, tasting that exotic mix of her arousal, feeling her body quiver and arch against me in surrender. It's not just sex; it's a full-body rush, every nerve ending on fire as I explore her depths, imagining how she'd moan and grip me tighter. And god, I crave knowing her scents, that earthy musk mixed with something sweet and forbidden, like sun-warmed fur and honeyed heat that clings to my skin long after. It makes my head spin, this taboo pull that I can't shake; it's flawed and unfiltered, a secret part of me that demands to be fed, no matter how unreal it is. Sometimes I wonder if I'm losing it, but fuck it, the thought of her alone gets me hard, replaying every imagined thrust and taste in vivid detail. It's my escape, my dirty little mythos, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.