Wake up with the soul soaked, Anxious... And with a little craving for your mouth... My lips were so moist, It had not only been a dream, But my body reflected my desires, The motive behind them... you.
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Yes, I love you like that. With your arms over your head completamente rendidos, and your legs stretched toward the dark sky, as a silent offering.
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His breathing became heavy, a trail of fire that preceded carnal contact. Without taking your eyes off yours, full of an uncontrollable lust, pinched the lips descending with a stormy slow.
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I have a poem burning on the tip of my tongue, impatient to be born in your mouth, to pour slowly between your lips, and down trembling down your neck,
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My Unknown Lover... If you only knew how I wait for the night... Waiting for you to come to my alcoba, To take away this urge, To make me yours...
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Tonight is a fiery night. , I thirst for you... From your kisses, From your caresses, From your moans...
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Several hours have passed, and everything is still beating on my skin: your kisses, your caresses, the marks of those squeezes that were engraved. My mouth is still imbued with its trace, and my tongue feels strange not to find it.. not feeling his caress.
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Stop going around selling that nonsense that the real male doesn't make noise, so boring, so disconnected. There's nothing like that genuine sound:
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I close my eyes, I can see myself still above you, while you record my moves and smile. I remember you so perfectly smiling at me as you arrange my clothes for when I get up, 'All this ready'. I won't forget your flirty way of letting me know I was doing well, it was a pleasure to feel so loved and wanted at the same time.
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My mouth is driving my senses crazy, –This is my feeling for you.
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I want a love of the ones before, the old, the real ones, the looks speak and the gestures count. A love of those who conquer you with words, with deeds, with poetry written by him or sought, I don't care, but he dedicates verses to me, gives me flowers, speaks to me nicely, because he wants it, because I provoke it and feels so. Feel him mine, write him with passion that my letters provoke him burning desires, I want to make him feel that I love him, and let me prove it on his skin.
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You meet someone and the sex is electric. Fast, rough, sharp enough to finally feel something. After that there is relief, maybe emptiness, maybe both. Try the slow version once. Candles, eye contact, hands lingering and it doesn't matter. Worse than nothing. Makes you want to run out of your own skin.
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