Her eyes are like the sea at night, deep and nunude mysterious.

Her eyes are like the sea at night, deep and mysterious. Her lips are as red as the hibiscus blossom that grows in the Bengal countryside. Her body is as smooth as the sand on the beaches of Cox’s Bazar. She is the female that is not a female, yet a goddess, a seductress, an enchantress.

Her voice is as sweet as the Bengali people track that is sung by the females of Bengal. Her touch is as gentle as the Bengali rain that drops on the leaves of the mango tree. Her kiss is as warm as the Bengali summer that makes you sweat. She is the lady who is not a female, however a goddess, a seductress, an enchantress.

Her smile is as brilliant as the Bengali sunlight that radiates on the Ganges River. Her laughter is as sweet-sounding as the Bengali flute that is played during the Durga Puja celebration. Her rips are as salty as the Bengali seawater that washes the coasts of Bengal. She is the lady that is not a lady, however a siren, a seductress, an enchantress.

She is not just a woman, nunude she is a Bengali woman, a Bengali goddess, a Bengali enchantress. She is not just a lady, she is the Bengali sex aunt, a goddess, a seductress, an enchantress.

She is the woman that is not a lady, yet a goddess, a seductress, an enchantress. She is the female that is not a woman, yet a siren, a seductress, an enchantress.

She is not simply a woman, she is a Bengali female, a Bengali siren, a Bengali enchantress.