The heavens open, and arms stretch forth in the shining, highlighting what is beauteous, graceful and feminine. An angel who walks among unknowing men uttering ethereal whisperings, tearfully awaits her wings and a beautiful ascension.
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Agony is every waking hour of me. So many have professed to truly love me, but they have left me in the throes of sorrow and anxiety. Still, for true love I reach, but in my loneliness, all that I clutch are tear-soaked pillows and bed sheets. I confess silently to the walls around me that I pray for an angel to rescue me; I stare out of my window on full moon nights to witness the glory of the heavens clearly, hoping my angel will descend gracefully and kiss me passionately.
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The pleasure from pleasing is manifest in moaning and wetness. There is an intensity in throbbing when intimacy is heightened. Lustful eyes gaze upon beautiful contours that will be licked, kissed and further explored. Sincere whisperings of intimate confessions is eroticism in its purest form.
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The grinding of her pleasure receptive clit against the stiff eagerness of his tongue causes her to feel every measure of his intent. She sucks his large hardness at the same time he does this. The more she intensely sucks, the more his purposed tongue wants to explore. The both want more. Her skin is soft and fragranced from bath oils and perfume. Her perfectly polished toes in peep toe heels had already enticed his desire for her before the position they are in. Her supple breasts are pressed against his euphoric flesh as she teases his cock-head and strokes his thickness. She looks back at him and takes a long pause, because what’s being done to her causes her body to shudder. She moans and closes her eyes to fully take in the ecstasy, leaning back slightly to feel the thrusts and writhing of his tongue more intensely. Still, she sucks and strokes his cock, looking back periodically and whispering passionately, Baby, don’t stop. Please, don’t fucking stop. Until there is uncontrollable shaking and unforgettable oral orgasms from marathon love making, he will not.
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The voice of a woman’s euphoria is a thing of beauty; when she says, make love to me, she means it with deep sincerity. Her aura is wonderful — she should be carefully handled like a flower placed in water delicately. The exploration of her mind and body is a fascinating journey. Her whispers are deep passion; her kisses, pure ecstasy.
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The craving of the flesh will not rest until ecstasy is let out through sincere screams and deep breaths. Every inch of pleasure is savored; every downward thrust and upward motion leading to a transcendent like explosive culmination. Pleasure receptors hold onto every sensual sensation. The ride is slow so girth and length can be more profoundly felt. Yes, the ride is slow, but the intimacy is deeper, and the euphoria is more intense.
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We made fathers of the older ones that truly cared for us. With strength and guidance, they made men of us. There were many of us. We were sisters and brothers, not by blood, but by something stronger. We wept together and swore vows to each other. In the tears of our deep lament we let out the pain of abandonment; our tearful faces to the sky, it was to our heavenly father that we cried.
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Beware of Medusa’s glare lest you turn to stone, forever cast a statue of fear. She once had beautiful golden hair but incurred the wrath of Athena’s tears, who turned Medusa’s beautiful gaze into a cursed stare. A gorgon she was made after her Poseidon affair, with many serpents replacing the strands of her hair. From her, sprang the brothers Chrysaor and Pegasus after her fateful encounter with Perseus. Her only sin was that her flawless beauty caused the gods to be jealous.
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Kiss me now, and take me away from this endless sorrow. Let me find comfort in your whispers and the scent of your hair. In your embrace, let your shoulders be the place for my falling tears. The beauty of your femininity comforts me. Your love is soothing medicine. The doses of you are immeasurable. The potency of your portion is incredible. With you I can be vulnerable. The essence of you is wonderful. Let the depths of my intimacy tell your heart that I love you. Let the truth of my eyes convey that I adore you. Your indelible mark upon my heart signifies that I belong to you. The beats of my heart through still waters ripple. You are my angel — a life-changing miracle. Your utterances are that of an oracle removing obstacles with the force of something mysteriously powerful. You are my medicine; again and again, my spirit calls to you.
Intimate Compositions 