The sweetness of her was like blackberry brandy mixed with lemonade, freshly crushed blackberries, simple syrup infused with rosemary, and whiskey in the summer poured over ice boulders. The process of intoxication were her lascivious whispers right before every passionate release, over and over. There was always pleasure in pleasing her, but the epitome of intimacy was pressing upon her the fire of my fervor. There was a perfect balance of tasting her while intermittently enticing her with sensual whispers. I would keep going, waiting for an explosion of shudders. I explored deep waters, wanting to be shipwrecked and immersed in the erotic intricacies of all of her. I wanted to be lost, navigating my way to the depths of her most secret pleasures. The scent of her was gardenias and freshly cut roses after a spring shower in Colombia. The cup of her was the most heightened concupiscent erotica. I drank of her rapture, wanting more and more of her.
Intimate Compositions 