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.
Heaven crowned her with whirlwinds of fire
Her mysterious eyes hide the depths of her like black water
Her nose is sculptured perfectly
Her lips are the softness of sensual beauty
The curvy contours of her breasts accentuate her bold femininity
Under twilight she is a shimmering mystery
The utterances of her are sweet poetry
Beautiful laughter is the euphoria of her
Her stiletto heels conquer and leave blood on the dance floor
She stalks the night gracefully in black lace embroidery
The middle of her back is a stream running through a deep valley
Hoop earrings drape through red secrecy beautifully
Anita Baker – No More Tears
Do eyes not fall upon her femininity and marvel?
In her movements, is she not graceful?
When the sunlight highlights the strands of her hair
is she not an angel?
Are the depths of her heart not wonderful?
Are her kisses not passionate and sensual?
Is the essence of all that she is not beautiful?
Muscle memory causes anticipation to shudder the body. The tingling of excitement invades the erogenous zones used to the pleasure of a skilled tongue. Her toes will be teased and the soles of her feet, before pleasure travels lower to the flood of a wet discovery. Every erogenous part of her body will be serviced thoroughly. Her experience will not be mediocre; she will be taken care of perfectly in beautiful ecstasy. The butt plug that is already inside her will be pulled out slowly and then reinserted again and again, constantly. The softness and warmth of passionate lips and eager tongue will intensely stimulate her pussy. Her legs will be spread widely, and she will be fucked deeply. Her ass will be explored. She will be spanked hard periodically. Her hair will be pulled firmly. In doggy, she will be fucked roughly. She will say through heavy breaths, Cum inside me, but her wait for his release will be lengthy. She will experience many memorable moments of transcendent ecstasy, then he will finally release, but she will release again. She will lie in bed for several minutes after, in erotic contemplation — after a hot shower she will be disrobed and taken in her favorite position. She will ride him unmercifully, not breaking her rhythm for anything, until she screams and digs her nails deeply into him. He will kiss her passionately again and whisper, You are my woman.
Sensuous flesh relieves its craving, announcing gratification with moaning, unintelligible whispers, shuddering and heavy breathing. Every position is recorded. Every intense release is documented. Every deep thrust and every ardent expression of lust will be replayed with legs open as vibrating sensations cause climax to come within a matter of minutes. Navy blue silk will partially conceal the vastness of squirting wetness. Nipples will be lightly brushed and a phone call will be made to set up another date and time to fuck. Screams are loud, but walls cannot talk. In a five star hotel, the next day, a beautiful woman in dark shades, black Louboutin’s, and concealed black lace lingerie walks.
I love you; you feel so fucking good inside me. I shouldn’t have stayed away for so long.
I was not worthy of such a thing that would find me and wrap my wretched coldness in its warmth, taking all of me and immersing my brokenness in its healing power unconditionally. In my fragile state, I did indeed see, but I couldn’t see clearly, and I foolishly pushed love away from me. I swore a solemn vow to never again allow passionate kisses upon my lips, lest I fell in love again only to be left emaciated in a desolate wilderness — but love is patient, and it sought me and though I lied listlessly in total decimation, gradually back together it brought me and took the raw diamond that is my soul and shaped me, and kissed me, and with tenderness, polished me relentlessly so that now I shine brightly. Now, in my eyes, there is a transcendent clarity that allows me to quickly distinguish true love from false pretense and vanity. Many lovers have said many beautiful words to me in the heat of our desire, but the essence of intimacy is much more than what is conveyed physically. In my moment of truth I was left devastated when I called upon those I thought had truly loved me, but reality is as cold as one thousand Siberian winters endured consecutively. I could never render anything to love and the depths of emotions that it has given me. Love, you are radiant in your beauty.
The verses of your soul are written in the depths of my heart, flowing through me and resurrecting long slumbering memories that had been buried deeply and that now whisper to me constantly, haunting me beautifully, driving me to confess silently as my tears fall within four walls that bear the marks of the passion and the torment of my secrecy.
Sade – Mermaid