The comfort of a woman, affectionate, calming, and feminine is healing to the soul that is hurting. Sometimes tears run in the moment that release is found. To be in her embrace as the warmth of her hands caress one’s face is to know the unrestrained expressions of her love. To be in her presence and to share in the balm of her essence is to discover her angelic existence. Even the fragrance of her freshly conditioned hair brings a tranquility that leads to ecstasy. Her whispers are endless lines of sentimental poetry. The beautiful intricacy of her intimacy is a transcendent lesson in romantic history. Her very existence is the epitome of a divine mystery. Emotions of pure love overflow when she whispers, Kiss me.
Tag: relationships
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Enough with the monotonous fucking and the nights of unpleasurable penetration faking it just to please him. How many times have you fucked him and drove home angry that he couldn’t bring you to orgasm? You dress in lingerie to visually stimulate him, and usually he only lasts for five to ten minutes sweating with heavy grunting as if he accomplished something. He refuses to even attempt to give you oral stimulation, but that’s another thing. Yes, he’s handsome, but not well versed in the intricate intimacy and ecstasy of pleasing a woman. You’ve masturbated in front of him to show him the points of a woman’s stimulation, but he still hasn’t learned anything. There is zero foreplay; he just jumps in. “Baby, I’m not wet; I’m not ready yet” you tell him, yet still there is no slow and deep kissing, there is no looking into each other’s eyes with beautiful whisperings, there is no caressing, there is nothing that is remotely loving. He pulls out water based lubricant attempting to assert his delusions of sexual prowess in the bedroom and you constantly allow him. If you have to use something vibrating in tandem with your own fingers, then what’s the sense in being intimate with him? He has money and a great career — but about intimacy and loving reciprocity he doesn’t care. Several times you’ve thought about cheating, but if it’s come to that, you might as well be honest with him and leave him. Do you stay because of his socio-economic status and his high position? If you do, then it’s on you. Oh, by the way, he fucks other women unprotected that you don’t know about too; and in the company of his friends and fraternity brothers he disparages you. He sees the “relationship” as something transactional unbeknownst to you, so in his eyes how does he truly view you? Is the tradeoff worth it? Will he make you his “wife?” Will he finally start to treat you lovingly? Is it your ultimate aspiration to rub shoulders with high society? Will he confess truthful vows of love in the congregation of your friends and family?
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No more intimacy without passion. No more monotonous positions. No more anticipation that’s not exciting. No more sex without achieving orgasm. No more five to ten minute sessions. No more apprehension of exploration. No more silence to spare potentially hurt feelings. No more hesitation. No more “please take care of your personal hygiene” conversations. No more having to fake it and making loud noises deception. No more wanting to try something new rejections. No more uncomfortable sexual dialogue deflections. No more indecision. No more wearing flats with an evening gown situations. No more nonsensical stipulations. No more “friends” coming over and drinking the expensive bottles of wine set-aside for special occasions. No more, “baby, I drank too much” embarrassment in public locations. No more time and time again, me having to reiterate the responsibilities and expectations set for a nearly middle-aged woman. No more excessive spending. No more “heels hurt my feet” and not seeing the sexiness of polished toes in mules and stilettos in size seven. No more outside influences affecting my relationship. No more bullshit. No more calling me every five minutes in a state of paranoia when I’m out of town on business. No more compromising. No more resentment. No more attempted mind fucking. No more trivial and tiring arguing. No more weeks of prolonged strife for no apparent reason. No more second guessing and wondering. No more talking for hours thinking the situation has been resolved and then two days later it comes back again. No more “I love you so much” not knowing the meaning. No more anything; I’m leaving.
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Where were you when I needed you? All I asked for was understanding and compassion. It wasn’t about sex. It wasn’t about fucking. I valued you as a woman, not body parts for selfish sexual satisfaction. I truly tried in every beautiful way to convey my emotions. Still, I apologize for my own errors. Still, my heart sends you loving whispers. With every intimate moment I reached to caress your essence. With every kiss I wanted you to know that I loved you with everything within me. So many years are spent in unhappiness in the unforgiving purgatory of pretense. So much fucking time is wasted with trivial and bullshit arguments. One thing that I can say about myself is, I always gave you room to vent. At risk of looking weak I would shed tears and tell you that I didn’t want to leave. You once were my reprieve. You were the life that I breathed. In my anxiety, sometimes I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to be the man that you needed. I wanted to bring the comfort of security, love and financial stability. I wanted a transcendent intimacy. I wanted you to evoke strong emotions of affection when you looked at me. I wanted you to be exceedingly joyous and happy. Perhaps you are happiest without me. Perhaps I am a romantic fool steeped in some ridiculous love fantasy. Perhaps I should beseech the ghost of Norma Jean and converse with her deeply about life, love and tragedy. The winters are so cold; baby, they are so cold. Fall is already here, and another desolate winter is near. I see you through my tears — baby, I swear that I still see you through my tears.
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If all we do is just fuck and pretend, what then shall we say to each other in the end? What tears of heartbreak will be shed? What emotional words will be softly and lovingly spoken? What remnants shall we have to hold onto that were once filled with love before they became broken? Why do we attempt to fool each other with sweet words that mean nothing? Is it not at least somewhat sadistic that we use each other for pleasure then blaspheme the name of love as if it was love that brought us together?
We share a bed and go through our regular routine, then right after, breathless together, you talk of wedding locations and rings. I purposely avoid your delusional sentiments, not subtly but overtly, and still, you continue to bring them up again. In the company of your friends you act like we’re some model couple because you want them to envy you — and ignorantly, they do. Maybe it’s our lust for each other that keep us together. Many times I’ve packed my bags to leave but always end up taking you on the sink in the bathroom or against the wall in the bedroom or on the carpet on your knees in any room. But that’s all we do; fuck, breakup, make up, pretend and argue.
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Please do not attempt to mind-fuck me again. It may have worked for you in the past, but I am starkly different from those other men. I approach life with a level of discipline. I appreciate beauty differently. I value a woman’s femininity with profound sincerity. I can gaze upon a naked woman and contemplate who she is internally without the need or desire to approach her womanhood sexually. Physical intimacy does not consume me. I am not juvenile in my thinking; I have greatly excelled in my maturity. What truly draws me to a woman is her mystery. Sexuality does not always have to be displayed overtly. I am comfortable in any degree of company — whether formal or informal, I always dress appropriately. I do not need to be the center of attention or speak loudly. Powerful oratory draws a crowd naturally. A crass woman without class is a turnoff, honestly; even if she is considered by many to be a woman of extreme beauty. Living a life of constant deception is unhealthy. You cannot emotionally manipulate me because you fuck me. I taught you pleasures unknown; I explored your body thoroughly. Upon knowing you initially, you didn’t even know how to self-pleasure effectively. In you, I unlocked a new level of intimacy. Ironically, now, you boast of your sexual prowess from mastery you learned from me. Let me give you a reminder of the wonderful levels of intimacy and sensuality: first, there must be a deep emotional connection; I’ll let you guess what’s second. You are beautiful undeniably, but sweetheart you will never possess the astuteness to be able to drain me monetarily.
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Rubbing her pussy, she called him for a rough and thorough fucking;
he came over promptly, then she got on her knees to suck him deeply.
Licking around the head of his cock, she seductively teased him —
her pink vibrator on the ridge of her clit, leaving her pussy dripping.
Usually after, he would have passionately tasted her, but on that evening
he bent her over and started fucking her hard with a primal vigor.
She screamed loudly, drawing the attention of her nosey neighbors,
but she wouldn’t have given a fuck even if she had immediately noticed.
She likes her erect nipples to be licked and sucked hard when she rides him,
but on that evening, she truly only wanted to be fucked in one position;
he kept pounding her hard from behind, never breaking his rhythm.
His raw passion caused her to have orgasm after intense orgasm—
after the fourth one, she said to him through heavy breathing,
Please cum, but he was only able to release when she told him
that she would swallow every last drop and then lasciviously
looked into his eyes and stuck out her tongue. -
A woman touches herself, whispering the most lascivious sexual scenarios under her breath. She is wet — craving the width of a large cock that can reach her depths. She wants to be stretched. She lets out sensual sounds as she strikes herself with a black leather belt; welts on her ass and rear thighs, denote the pain that brings pleasure. After, she uses her vibrator, up and down the ridge of her sensitive clit. Imagining her ex lover’s skillful mouth and tongue, she whispers, Keep going; lick it baby — suck it. Please don’t stop; I want to cum. Harder with her vibrator she presses down; she wants his thickness inside her now. A large vibrating dildo beside her, is the surrogate for his cock. With her left hand she fucks herself, and with the right, on her clit, she finds the right spots. Feeling a nearing intense orgasm coming, she keeps whispering, Don’t stop. And she doesn’t, reaching her climax with her eyes closed — her body first shuddering, then unable to move as if in an erotic pose. The darkness covers her intense pleasure, but the darkness knows the depths of all her secret desires. She is on fire, releasing the end result of the deep passion and breathtaking lust that is within her. She is on fire. Her still wet pussy demands more; she whispers, Pull my hair, and fuck me like I’m your whore. Her ass begs to be slowly penetrated. The extent of her desire to have another orgasm cannot in any way be overstated. She wants to cum, again and again; she released at least twice before, but all she can think about is passionate fucking. The large dildo she purchased over a year ago, she starts sucking — licking around the head with an eager tongue then going deep as if she was really going down on her last boyfriend. She truly misses him, but his large throbbing cock is one of the reasons. She can lie to herself no longer; she wants him deep inside her. She wants to be taken from behind as his strong hands rub the deep contours of her spine. She wants to ride him hard and feel the strength and brawn of his shoulders underneath her arms. She wants him in her ass as she rubs her vagina. She wants to get on her knees and suck his thick cock until he can hold on no longer. She wants him to count down from ten, so they can release together. Still, in darkness, the taste and feeling of him lingers. Still, the darkness knows her passion and most secret desires.
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Two lovers again found each other;
And in their rediscovery, they
First wept, then expressed
Their feelings towards each other sensually.
Passionately, he makes love to her;
Whispering the feelings of his heart,
He tells her, Baby, I’m so glad we’re
back together; I want you, I love you, I need you,
and never again do I want us to be apart.
Sincerely, he asks forgiveness
for all the times he hurt her,
And she accepts his apology
With a loving kiss
And a gentle whisper. -
Love’s secret depths are only found when tears are shed
And the strength of its power is taken to the edge,
When circumstances seem insurmountable and at the end;
It is only then, that it is truly tested and the beauty of its
intensity and potency is manifested.
Intimate Compositions 