'Hmm... not much...'
And so we go, on and on, undress eachother, of clothes and misconceptions on pleasure and morality, until you say your tongue is in my mouth, and your hands are holding mine against the wall, and I loose all sense of reality... I see you in frames. Short fast coloured frames crossing my brain, in between the breathing and the whispering and your slaps on my thighs... I close my eyes to feel you better, to recognize you only from the sweet smell of your skin, the softness of your hair and the strenght of your fingers...
'Baby, your skin is so hot...'
Acceleration and sweat, heavy breathing and my hands nearly ripping off these cushions, and then I can't feel my brain anymore. Only spasms, a heavenly seizure, the fast memory of your face landing on the back of my neck, mouth open, trying to breath...
'Ohh... You really are a dream...'
Phone sex. Love it.
4 comments:
My godness friend You are inspired!
it's not inspiration... just written memory... ;)
O giro é que do outro lado pode estar uma velhota desdentada, num roupão turco e com umas pantufas em forma de coelho.
PS: gentileza retribuída
oh... e como sabê-lo, agora?... ;)
PS. muito obrigada :)
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