Whatever you may be going through, take comfort in knowing that someone truly loves you. And if you do not believe so, whisper your sorrows to the angels when you are tearful, reflecting on the precious memories that you hold onto. And in your reflection find the diamond that you might have first missed — an initial experience of kindness, an embrace in loving arms, a first kiss. It may not be bliss, but it might be enough to hold you over until the darkness is vanquished by light. With falling tears, mount up for warfare and fight. You do not fight alone, for we are kindred spirits derived from the aura of ancient warrior kings and queens who ruled well and sat on golden thrones. In each other we will always have a home. Dark rain falls on our illuminated halos. Our twin flames conjoin creating a barrier that torment and sorrow cannot follow. We are as peaceful as gentle winds rustling the leaves of willow trees in late spring over hidden streams. Even though tears stream, in love and hope we are redeemed.
Tag: Love
-
You are loving, passionate, and profoundly intimate with a beautiful spirit. What others do not see in you, I do. You are a rarity chosen from even among the few. From your inception you were a blessing. You are a deeply devoted woman and sincere in your giving. The intellect of you is pleasing. To sit and converse with you is to talk to a woman of immense understanding. Your discourse is refreshing. Moreover, your resilience is infectious, resurrecting hope in the hopeless. Your words are seeds in the hearts of men that spring forth life. You are honored both in silence and in vocalness. The eyes of your admirers fall upon you with illuminated wonder. You are the glory of the dawn of the rising sun after a stormy night in September. You are a friend, lover, businesswoman, deep well of compassion, mother, sister, and daughter crowned under heaven’s cover. You are gorgeous; an object of desire. In your bosom there is fire. Your recognition is that of a different caliber. Your love is invaluable. To weep in your arms and let go is a transcendental therapy unknown. To walk in your feminine is to walk in the sacred nature of your being. Many times you are a healer without knowing. You are one thousand rivers peacefully flowing in synchronized rhythm with gardens, vineyards, and fields of pink roses surrounding them . In stellar light there you stand glowing. There is great comfort in the tone of your voice. Your delicate touch causes tears to well up in the eyes of the afflicted and the anxious. You are loved, so much. You are precious. You are a red diamond untouched.
-
Beautiful mother, daughter of Constancia, hear the words that I whisper: you are in my heart, and I will love you forever. There will be no reconciliation with the person who is supposedly my father. His memory is washed away from me like drops of water in a raging flood. He is unworthy and cowardly; I renounce the lineage of his blood.
Search my soul, and read the letters of my heart detailing the trauma within me that is untold. I am a flower alone in a dark and desolate place that withers in the cold. My petals fall and are taken in the wind. Here, it is unforgiving. There is no compassion or understanding. I am at war with demons; I slay with sword and shield unrelenting.
Amaryliss, let me feel the warmth of your presence. Comfort your descendant with a kiss. Embrace me in celestial sunshine. Sing to me the songs of your mother and her mother and all those before her. Bestow upon me preternatural power. Be with me, especially in my most despondent hours. Let me float on peaceful waters in my slumber. Strip away from me all hindrances that threaten my ascension. My blood is your blood — I am eternally your faithful son.
-
The hands in black satin gloves glide across the smooth surface of what holds the lifeless. Her husband kneels beside her casket, giving her a final kiss. There is weeping in the great hall. It is cold, and outside rain falls. Silver haired women adorning black veils conceal gold crucifix necklaces beneath black shawls. Old men who have survived many years of deep sorrow sit stoically in the back rows. Tears stream as cold rain turns into snow. There are variations of flowers in many different colors, but the lifeless does not know. Six strapping men stand in position to lift her again. After hoisting, they walk slowly in tandem; each one of them wearing gloves of black satin. Rose petals fall gently on snow as if the roses themselves shed tears in mourning. Winter winds carry the sounds of sorrow. A sea of black is the procession that follows. Black clothes contrast against white snow as if the pitch darkness of night was invading the brightness of daylight. Elder men lean on vintage brass handle walking canes at the grave site. Widowers comfort each other as they gather. Though usually stoic—still, they cry for her. She was a beautiful wife and mother they whisper. At the moment of the lowering, her husband falls to his knees; weeping, he reaches for her. She was immensely loved. She no longer lives, yet still, she does.
-
I love you deeply,
She said genuinely
From sensuous lips
So sweetly. -
Still, there are words left unspoken years after I thought I had completely purged you from my system. Fucking other women was supposed to be my exorcism. My feelings for you were supposed to end. With every intense release of passion there should have been more distance. I made love passionately and intensely in the rapture of deep intimacy to women who told me that they loved me, but your memory is my prison. In the company of friends and associates I feigned indifference to stave off the outward signs of emotional ruin. Fuck her they would tell me, and I would pretend to agree with them. I’ve never been a man to be consumed by any particular obsession. As a fatherless child, I was raised by stern uncles who taught me to control my emotions in the company of men, and be exceptionally stoic in the company of women. Perhaps they would think that I have strayed from their discipline if they ever heard any of my intimate whisperings. Confessions have been told and tears have flowed before love making at 3:00 A.M. Naked and drenched in sweat saying barely coherent words through heavy whispery breaths, an attempted exorcism is in progress yet again.
-
A timeless performance from Julie McKnight
-
Directly looking into lustful eyes the session begins with kisses falling softly on inner thighs. A cube of melting ice is rubbed around nipples yet to be sucked. The anticipation causes a reaction of natural lubrication that cannot be stopped. Another slow soft kiss, then a seductive whisper, open your legs wider. Ice melts over erogenous nipples like a slow flowing river thawing at the end of an exceedingly cold winter. Kisses go lower…the receiver of pleasure moans, wanting soft kisses to finally reach the destination of her wetness followed by something intensely satisfying sliding in and out of her. Pinched slightly numb nipples feel so wonderful. Neck kisses commence; the absolute need for heightened satisfaction is unbearable. Warm willing mouth sensually mounts cold nipples — the proficiency of licking, sucking and uninhibited intimacy is on another level. She rubs her pussy furiously as he services her upper body. She says in a distinct sensuous tone softly, goddamn, I want you to fuck me; but he will make her wait for the thrusts of lascivious penetrative ecstasy. He wants to taste her because orally pleasing her fuels his primal desire. She’s clean shaven, sexy, and on fire. Again, he goes lower methodically using his mouth with his fingers inside of her. He is extremely turned on, and it shows in his sultry behavior. His tongue is extremely skillful, causing her body to shudder. When her first orgasm comes he can feel the pelvic contractions tighten on his fingers — though she is shaking he keeps going, withdrawing his fingers and inserting his now stiffened tongue inside of her to savor the essence of her erotic nature. After the second wave of orgasms there is an intermission; he watches her keenly, the bed and his face drenched in the release of her absolutely untamed ecstasy. Later, she will be blindfolded, tied, and spanked. She assumes doggy saying repeatedly, now fuck me, looking back.
-
Insatiable craving for the taste of passion; tongue writhing, pleasure heightening, continuous fluid motion like a snake on black satin gliding, sensual whispers teasing to entice the unquenchable need for two fingers to slowly slide in — nipple pinching simultaneous with every brush of the willing tongue on erogenous clitoris; moaning, heavy breathing, screaming open declarations of how wet she is; untamed kisses — she tastes herself by licking and sucking the tips of his fingers. He goes lower and slower for deeper exploration. Within three minutes there are waves of powerful explosions. Erotic sensations; so much passion, so many fucking positions to choose from. Missionary immediately, then she’ll ride him hard in rhythmic consistency. She is loud because he’s experienced, strong, and well-endowed with eyes of mystery. Looking at him directly she utters, fuck me enthusiastically. He switches positions quickly, taking her from behind and pulling her hair roughly. He knows her psyche and her body thoroughly, constantly immersing her in depths of unrestrained intimacy. Positions are switched yet again for the absolute access of side entry. The impassioned rhythmically slow thrusts of his girth are lengthy. They kiss again with a longing that is dreamy and fiery. Pedicured feet draped with gold anklets in clear high heel mules are so fucking sexy. She releases again intensely, shaking uncontrollably after he says, baby, please cum for me.
