|Nothing is what it seems and what we see is only a minute amount of what exists to be experienced. This is but one of many aspects of my “self.”|
Finish The Story:
“His work never really interested him. And so, once again, he found himself staring out of the window. It was in that moment that he felt something he had never experienced before. He saw her in her yellow dress. The wind played with her dress as she turned around and they locked eyes…”
He watched the pupils of her emerald green eyes dilate as her lush ruby lips parted with a silent gasp. Then she tossed him a provocative smirk as she turned and glided away, the wind continuing to play peek-a-boo with the skirt of her dress.
Stunned, he sat frozen for a moment, then rose from his desk and rushed past his PA.
“Sir, where are you going? Your next appointm...
Head thrown back in wild abandon, she surrendered herself to his mesmerizing touch, as they lay, nestled in the green, silk sheets.
This year I want more Passion and less Emptiness.
If I had one word to focus on this year it would be Love.
I want to stop Hiding, start Caring, and keep Exploring.
My biggest worry or concern is being Discovered.
This year I will embrace Myself.
Crazed eyes, wild and green
In a mesmerizing dream
A passion extreme
There is a reluctant passion
To feel the slick friction
Of your thick and long hardness
With your hands as my harness
Pressing in, pulling out, and in again
Deeper and harder, this pleasing sin
Go in as far as my body allows
Harder, deeper, faster; follows
My cries and moans tell of my pleasure
My tight, soft, center releases liquid treasure
I squeeze, pulling forward, then pushing back
My round softness, slapping your sack
Together, I buck and you ride
Me pressing, moving side to side
Speeding up, pumping once more
I feel the tip of your length touch my floor
Crying out, my dam releases a flood
Your throbbing finish feels so good.
“The music was playing, with a special saxophone solo. She sat on her couch with a glass of wine, admiring him…
Sitting at his desk, still working. She stood up and…”
Sauntered over to where he sat, a seductively mischievous glint in her eyes. Arriving at her destination, she arranged herself, half sitting, half leaning on the side of the desk. Dangling her sensuously curved leg next to him, she began swinging it from side to side, a slow pendulum, the exposed skin of her calf a burnished, golden hue.
In the background, the instrumental sax gave way to the vulnerable voice of Billie Holiday singing “The Man I Love.”
She started humming along as she stood up and walked behind him...