Inside, there was a bed, and upon the bed there was a woman. More beautiful was she even than the damask rose while her scent, drifting through the open window, was that of the night dew. Her hair was silken as the raven's wing. Quite naked, she lay, so still upon the bed, her eyes closed in reverie.The young man looked first upon her breasts, where her hand rested. And upon each breast, there was a rosebud nipple. Upon each nipple there was a tip most tender. Upon each tip there was a milky drop. Chin lifted, lips parted, she milked her maiden breast.'What I would give to suckle at that teat,' thought he. from 'Against Faithlessness' in Cautionary Tales
How many rooms are there in the chambers of your heart? How many rooms full of memories can you describe like the one I__ going to tell you about. You know how you left him don__ you? The man you were so in love with once. Bing Cherry Silk. Another man left those for you didn__ he? And you put them on, just like I did.
Bing Cherry Silk
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How many rooms are there in the chambers of your heart? How many rooms full of memories can you describe like the one I__ going to tell you about. You know how you left him don__ you? The man you were so in love with once. Bing Cherry Silk. Another man left those for you didn__ he? And you put them on, just like I did.
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Lover," she whispers, and closes her eyes.It falls upon her.Love is like dying.
Can I kiss you?_ And she would let him, lightly on her lips, a moment of brief anticipation. __our kisses are like sugar woman._ He would tell her affectionately. __o sweet._ He would close in on her and then ask softly, __lease spend the night with me.
He trailed his eyes down over her beautiful breasts then told her, __ou__e going to keep your mouth shut and I__ going togive you that Orgasm you asked for._ He thought for a moment she was going to tell him to get lost, but instead she leaned her head back against the wall and pushed her hips out toward him.
But then he combs his fingers through my hair, starting at the base of my neck, and I shiver with uncontrollable, unexpected pleasure.
We are souls, eternal and perfect, captains of our mystic ships: gods and goddesses of our universe. We are beautiful, we pearls of grit. We, the ember of everything. Our uniqueness IS what makes us special, and the expression of it is our gift to the rest of us. In order to feel happy and fulfilled, we must honour our own personal brand of creativity... let it out into the world... BE who we came here to BE.