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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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I love you; you feel so fucking good inside me. I shouldn’t have stayed away for so long.
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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.
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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.
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Sade – Mermaid
Intimate Compositions 