When we cry together, know that I am your protector, lover and strong shoulder forever. Never forget, that when it storms I am your shelter. The depths of love have shown me secret paths that have transformed my once hardened heart and have made me better. I mean every word in every vow made to you, down to the letter. I was broken; so shattered — I sought healing through many sexual encounters, but there was still an emptiness, though I had many lovers. True intimacy is so much more than fleshly pleasure. I held you and kissed you the first night. I admit, that I wanted you, but a beautiful transcendency took a hold of me, and unexpectedly I uttered through a sincere whisper, Let’s just talk more and get to know each other. I listened intently to your life story as we lied together, and you moved me like no other. Baby, I swear you moved me like no other. It was then that my soul stirred within me, and I said to myself silently, I love her; I truly love her.
Hours after, the pleasure still lingers — she can still feel him inside her, the perfect size of him, the continuous throbbing. Again, she wants to fuck him, so she’ll think about the way he sucked and teased her erect sensitive nipples as she rode him; then close her eyes, open her legs wide, and slowly start rubbing until there is a wet explosion, screaming, heavy breathing, and irrepressible shuddering after she whispers his name again and again.
Flames of passion brighten
as twilight waves rush in,
in the evening, there is kissing,
sweet caress, and heaving breathing.
When the darkness finally comes,
there will be sounds of moaning
and the excitement of different positions
that quench the emotions of longing—
a full moon contrasting white sand
against the aesthetic of shimmering skin;
in nakedness after ecstasy, wine glasses
will be filled with sweet Moscato again,
and two lovers will hold each other
with tears of indescribable joy,
in gentle ocean winds.
She remembers everything; the deep sucking, the hair pulling, the flood that came after a thorough licking — a hard and relentless fucking, how she rode him on a wooden chair and wildly kissed him; how wet she becomes every time they begin, how he moaned when she told him that she loved him, how she positioned herself with her face in the pillows so he could deeply enter in and how loud she gets when she rubs her clit and so badly misses him.
In the last moments, the release is so fucking intense. From ten, there is a countdown to climax — the thrusts, deep, hard, and fast. By seven, the erotic whispers resume to make the pleasure last. By five, a pause ensues and the whispers cease. On three, there is an explosion of ardent release. After, the evidence of euphoria is soaked into satin sheets. In another hour, there will more passionate fucking, and near the end, the concupiscent countdown from ten will begin again.
Curved pink satin gracefully floats in heavenly motion — white embroidered lace hovering over like a full moon, its soft light highlighting pink roses in beautiful evening bloom. In white, an angel moves, her fluidity like heaven’s poetry read consistently by circles of archangels in golden rooms. Invisible wings lift her, her arms extended on each side like the branches of oak trees after a winter’s slumber in spring breezes that come alive. She dances delicately with an indescribable beauty inside; her heart carrying her across the vastness of oceans in each wondrous motion. Seven stars are her crown, smiling beautifully in a transcendency from which she will never come down.
What do you think about when it’s over? Does the pleasure linger? Please tell me.
My love, words cannot convey the emotions that so well up in me that joyous tears flow constantly. That you would understand me, alone in itself is a thing of beauty — but that you would understand the depths of my poignancy and still look upon me adoringly and love me unconditionally is a gift that I could never deem myself worthy. Your name is whispered among women, and men do stare at me enviously as if I had the fulness of the heavens in my possession. The sincerity of your love heals even the deepest and most hideous scars that were marked upon my heart when I fell into devastation. The bitter cold is merciless, and the soul withers in darkness like unwatered roses cut from the stem, left strewn on tables in drab rooms never to see the sun again. I cannot count the number of times that my sorrowful tears fell in your hair as you whispered to me lovingly, I will always be here. Your soothing caress is like much needed deep breaths in fresh air. Your head rests on my chest and I reaffirm to myself that I want no one else in this world or the next. On my many journeys if the sea were to take me in its unforgiving waves, the whisper of your name would be my last breath. At my end, I would know that I would see you again; your eternal kisses falling upon me like light raindrops falling upon budding leaves in the spring, bringing to life what was thought to be lost forever but was found again. I love you with a love unfathomable. With tears, I gave my heart to you in the winter with sincerity and purity irreversible. The marriage of us is not with rings or cliché babblings of repetitive sayings but of a transcendency with potency not transcribed easily, illuminated beautifully by transparent destiny, and richly blessed eternally. We share true intimacy through our minds, souls, and bodies. We please each other with fervor that brings us closer together, tearing asunder any inkling of strife or anger. We find an oasis in each other, and you have loved me like no other. Darling, I swear that you have loved me like no other.
Erotic euphoria allows no room for deep contemplation as the body submits fully to passionate rhythms of unwavering stimulation — erect nipples and flowing wetness signify the depth of anticipation, because it has been done so many times before in the comfort of privacy, allowing for sensual expression that is expressed sometimes quietly but most often loudly. Remembering her last intense fucking, she utters, Fuck my pussy, with a large object inside her and her twitching clitoris being massaged expertly by experienced fingers; her left hand slowly moves up to rub and lightly pinch nipples that well know the feeling of the tip of an eager tongue. Imagining him there, she whispers, Please make me cum, not stopping her erotic rhythm for anything or for anyone. What would her high society friends and acquaintances think if they knew that she tasted herself eagerly, licking the wet passion slowly with the tip of her tongue? The beauty of her expression is that she doesn’t give a fuck. She loves telling her lover that she wants to be fucked upon seeing the girth of his cock that she so likes to get on her knees and suck. The lingering taste of him intensifies her want. She opens her legs a little wider to deepen what is vibrating inside her, intently moving her fingers over what is most receptive to pleasure. Her subtle beauty is her femininity and the womanhood of her. To true pleasure, she is no stranger. She is accustomed to marathon fucking and well hung men with stamina. She lies in her bed; her leg hanging off the edge. Her hair flowing into soft pillows, like a vast ocean at the mouth of many rivers. When the height of pleasure finally finds her, there are no words that she can utter. Her pupils dilate. Her body shudders.
The stillness of her sentiment is something unfathomably beautiful. An angel closes her eyes and is immersed in the rapture of deeply intimate thoughts, her head slightly tilted to the side — her hair draped gracefully like the branches and leaves of weeping willow trees nestled in the rapture of a spring breeze set over a peaceful stream that flows endlessly in wondrous dreams. Black silk rests on her feminine curves like snowcapped mountains graced with light snow undisturbed. Her spirit animal is the Crowned Eagle, soaring to that celestial place in the company of thousands of white winged angels. To look upon her and see only outer beauty is to see the surface of the sea but never dive into its depths to explore its prodigious mystery. She transcends in tranquility. The essence of who she is, is displayed silently. Gaze upon her glory; yes, gaze upon a woman who wept constantly but found her victory. See in her what others couldn’t see — close yours eyes, and breathe deeply. Dream with her; witness the gorgeous illustrations of her soul. View the writings of her heart where falling tears narrated the biography of her sorrow. See that she is truly beautiful. See that she is truly beautiful.