(no subject)
TODAY I WAS A PARAMOUR…
hello girls, I shall make you burn with a fever and quiver with every dripping fiber from your blushing face to your curling toes; your torso will twist with pleasure and you will moan for ecstasy and the ultimate summit, climax and nails tearing the bed sheets as rose petals fall from the ceiling. Hello boys, I shall make your knees buckle as you pop like a bottle of warm champagne, you will grab me and groan, mumble filthy words and sweat of our bodies shall mingle in the air. Yes, I am a concubine of lust, of tongues and passion and kisses. Not the long embrace of lovers, but the raw, violent and carnal desire of Sex. Are you going to be quiet? Should I light the candles and draw the bath hot and damp, press my sex against your body to the point of arousal? Vigilantly and flawlessly peal your steamy garments from your skin, then as a sculptor would, slide my hand up your yearning leg to your thigh. Then like a cat, slink upwards, locked into your eyes, never blinking, kiss your neck that is bent back and gently let you down to the bed. Shaking under a façade of confidence our forms urgently pushing into each other. Thrusting and rubbing, I look at you as you are trying to see beyond your wet hair pasted to your face, your body, and sinews of muscle. I move to you and pull you into my arms and kiss your wet lips. Your warm body is inviting as you return my kiss. I pull you even closer to me and I feel your heaving chest. Our lips are still locked together. Our hands begin to roam our wet bodies. Another sharp flash and the rolling of the thunder. I ease you back onto the meadow, into the wet grass. Our lips are still locked together, and I feel like I am going to drown from the pooling water on our faces. I stroke your body up and down, my hands roaming through your wet hair, along your neck, your sides. I swell within myself begging for release. I break free of our kiss and roam your body with my mouth and tongue, exploring, kissing, tasting. I kiss every area of your exposed flesh I can find. Stroking, struggling with the wet fabric that will not come free. We are both tugging now. Between thighs, spreading, closing, wanting. Your hands roam me and try to guide. Not yet, not yet. Arching backs in this world are the only form. I break free from you, but we pull back together into the drowning. I will never love, I know only bodies and the art of flesh and the many layers of that are my lives and days and deaths.
hello girls, I shall make you burn with a fever and quiver with every dripping fiber from your blushing face to your curling toes; your torso will twist with pleasure and you will moan for ecstasy and the ultimate summit, climax and nails tearing the bed sheets as rose petals fall from the ceiling. Hello boys, I shall make your knees buckle as you pop like a bottle of warm champagne, you will grab me and groan, mumble filthy words and sweat of our bodies shall mingle in the air. Yes, I am a concubine of lust, of tongues and passion and kisses. Not the long embrace of lovers, but the raw, violent and carnal desire of Sex. Are you going to be quiet? Should I light the candles and draw the bath hot and damp, press my sex against your body to the point of arousal? Vigilantly and flawlessly peal your steamy garments from your skin, then as a sculptor would, slide my hand up your yearning leg to your thigh. Then like a cat, slink upwards, locked into your eyes, never blinking, kiss your neck that is bent back and gently let you down to the bed. Shaking under a façade of confidence our forms urgently pushing into each other. Thrusting and rubbing, I look at you as you are trying to see beyond your wet hair pasted to your face, your body, and sinews of muscle. I move to you and pull you into my arms and kiss your wet lips. Your warm body is inviting as you return my kiss. I pull you even closer to me and I feel your heaving chest. Our lips are still locked together. Our hands begin to roam our wet bodies. Another sharp flash and the rolling of the thunder. I ease you back onto the meadow, into the wet grass. Our lips are still locked together, and I feel like I am going to drown from the pooling water on our faces. I stroke your body up and down, my hands roaming through your wet hair, along your neck, your sides. I swell within myself begging for release. I break free of our kiss and roam your body with my mouth and tongue, exploring, kissing, tasting. I kiss every area of your exposed flesh I can find. Stroking, struggling with the wet fabric that will not come free. We are both tugging now. Between thighs, spreading, closing, wanting. Your hands roam me and try to guide. Not yet, not yet. Arching backs in this world are the only form. I break free from you, but we pull back together into the drowning. I will never love, I know only bodies and the art of flesh and the many layers of that are my lives and days and deaths.