Kiss me where the tears flow from endless sorrow. Whisper seductively to the darkness that stalks me relentlessly so that I can destroy it from an angle that it cannot see. Lie down with me, singing the songs that your mother beautifully sung when she cradled you in her arms. Gaze upon me in my slumber knowing that I love you and that I am totally yours. Let us intimately reach for each other in the late hours and reaffirm our vows under the moon and the stars. Close your eyes and breathe deeply as I gently and slowly explore the regions of your sensitivity. Allow me to please you with devoted sensual methodology. You are the true embodiment of beauty. I do not have to contemplate any reasons to love you — I love you purposefully. You are the remedy for the wounds of despondency that hurt me. You are the voice that echo the sentiments of my poetic heart when I suffer silently. Your affection releases me from the cruel fetters of purgatory. The burdens that you help me carry are heavy, yet you have not abandoned me. Of such unwavering love, how could I be worthy? What can I offer except to love and protect you eternally? My life is no longer my own; it is yours, my lady.
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Immeasurable beauty cannot be contained. You are various vibrant colors of flowers untamed. The soil is rich beneath you; you are crowned with the sun and heaven’s rain. The healing comfort of you is unexplainable — your soft kisses, sensually exceptional. Your love is the empathy of tearful angels. Your loving whispers breakdown the barriers of the guarded heart, causing the heartbroken to trust in love again. Your intoxicating fragrance is Jasmine moving gently in caressing tropical winds. Even in your slumber you transcend. You have tasted the bitterness of betrayal and have wept, but your betrayer can find no peace in perpetual agony shedding tears in the place that you once slept. The profoundness of you is sweet refreshing water of a well with unending depth. Slowly disrobe and intently look at yourself — consider the divinity of your femininity and take a deep breath. You are the embodiment of something precious and rare in a place where nothing but desolation is left. There was a time you hardly slept. There was a time you constantly wept in brokenness. Through pain your rebirth came, and you took hold of the joy that you rightfully claim. You are an empress beautiful and immaculate in your reign. You are naturally sensual. The beauty of you is immeasurable, and the twinkling stars know your name.
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Death hath no breath nor sentiment of sorrow for the bereft. It is always the last occurrence left, giving no regard to time, regret or consciousness. It is finality — gradually or instantly. Death’s venom is utterly devastating when it comes unexpectedly. The living are left to the contemplation of mortality’s acquisition. In its wake of devastation death’s whispers may not give any rhyme or reason. It can come as a betrayal, the ultimate treason. It can come as sweet release; the peaceful letting go of a life lived for many seasons. Death collects its bounty even from the ultra powerful and wealthy. What lies beyond or what does not, is its neverending mystery. Perhaps before an entrance heavenly two thousand years in the bowels of purgatory. Death’s alluring dance offers a glimpse of eternity. Funeral attendants whisper among themselves, he lived his life in agony. Soil and roses are thrown by the tearful living simultaneously as the cemetery groundskeeper lowers the body.
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Pleasure begins with slow mounting of hardened flesh, then passionate kisses as wetness slides down on lengthened thickness. Up, and then down again, several times in vigorous rhythm before intense release with uncontrollable shuddering. Eyes close during slow riding to savor the euphoric feeling. Arms slung over strong shoulders give perfect leverage to keep pace of rhythmic fucking. Aesthetic ass is reddened from hard spanking. Vibrating anal plug and tempoed riding is the combining of unrestrained hedonism and perfect timing. Pleasure receptive nipples can’t hide from the tip of the wet warm teasing tongue and lips that find them. Eyes connect — then heightened moans and breathlessness. Reverse cowgirl is next, increasing the intensity expressed, there is hair-pulling, erotic whisperings, more intense fucking, and sweat.
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Every sentence is an immersion in pleasure. Every word spoken, an erotic whisper. There is lust, desire, romance, fucking and intimacy in every chapter. Everything is documented; the moments before and the moments after. The release in every sensuous narrative is a powerful vibrator applied to a throbbing clitoris with perfect pressure. The girth of what is erect explores the depths of what is wet, and the climactic ending is spectacular. Every erotic detail is described in vivid vernacular. It flows effortlessly like a gripping novella. Its pages are a silk and satin mixture brushing against sensitive nippples that are hyper-responsive to pleasure. Reading with bursting anticipation of subsequent chapters heightens the brain’s pleasure receptors. Even long after reading, the imagery of sensuality will still linger, causing fingers to stoke the flame of wanton desire. Feel the intensity of unrestrained passion through the flaming pen of the author. It is a book that is always reread several times over. There is a shocking revelation in the pages of the last chapter.
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Oh, that elysian place of peace, where stillness is heightened and sorrow is released.
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I am of the divinity of the womb that delivered me.
I am the living heir of anguish and beauty.
I walk the path of a transcendent destiny.
I have beheld and marveled at the eyes of mystery.
In the marrow of me there is unwavering loyalty.
My soul holds on painfully to my own, and the secrets others have tearfully told me.
Loving someone from a distance can render one lonely.
I have found that there is a profound and indescribable beauty in intimacy.
I have cast off the associates I once held in my heart as friends and family.
Those who resonate with my pain I love dearly.
When I give love, I give it totally and sincerely.
I dreamt of ascension, and when I awoke I wept joyfully. -
In a state of dormancy my spirit lies within me awaiting an awakening like perennial flowers flourishing in spring but in winter withering. Of love I am forsaken. A beautiful Bruja with long gray hair once kissed me and told me that love would heal my afflictions. In violent storms of anguish the extremes are unforgiving; I am an insomniac or constantly sleeping. In darkness I awake weeping with tears streaming, reaching for the comforting caresses of affection. Closely listen for the true sentiments of my heart through my inflections. If the anguish of dormancy is my portion then I pray for a timely oasis of revitalization. A Bruja told me that undying love would find me, and I took heed to her wisdom. In the interim there is suffering. The dormancy of my soul is parched and cold. It is the purgatory of me that my eyes cannot hide. There is no vagueness in my narrative — the rhetoric of the afflicted does not lie. A Bruja collected the tears of my cries before she prophesied.
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Feminine form adorned with seductive jewelry elegantly highlighting undertones of sensuality subtly; it is appropriately sexy whether casually or formally — paired with a pedicure it can invoke the desire to thoroughly please orally. Gold resting on moisturized shimmering skin is something of beauty; the essence of a woman’s expression displayed simply, yet so wonderfully.
Intimate Compositions 