A Taste of Lust, passion, and love.

I would come to your house to collect you and bring you to mine. I would have prepared a fine meal of exquisite fare. After the meal we would bask in the moonlight and speak of philosophies unknown to the mundane and uncaring. I would kiss you taking your breath into my lungs tasting your essence on my tongue. I would feel your pulse under my fingers as I held you by wrist and neck into the solemn kiss that forces deepened ecstasy to wake from long unnatural slumber. As your body pulsed and the kiss consumed you like a fire on a dry savanna. I would drag you into me holding your suffocating close my arms binding your with passionate strength. Lost in the embrace not wanting to struggle free your body craves more I surrender to is desires and present it with the touch and passion it craves. Your skin grows warm to the touch at the eroticism of my sinful caresses and  lust in my decedent licks and kisses on your supple and sweet skin.

Our clothing melts away with our inhibitions. My mouth moves from yours. Sampling the erotic joys of a wanton body pleading to submit to the caresses of a lover. As my fingers find wondrous places to grip and control the movements of your body forcing your back to arch your breasts to my lips I care not for the nipples as I know more than the others in your past instead I grab the fullness of your breast with a grip nearing painful  and lift it slightly exposing the underside to the assault of my tongue. Lapping and nibbling on one of the hidden points of lust and desire. Then the fragrance of your body attacking me driving my mind into a frenzy of sex driven thoughts. Moving my hand from your firm ass poising my arms in a way that when I entangle my fingers in your silken locks. I have complete control of your body then I bend you back to see the realm of the inner sanctum. And see the wet desire coating the entrance to the most sacred of places.

I slide my free hand up your thigh feeling the soft tremors of anticipation course through them I softly brush though womanhood as pass my hand to your other thigh. My caress is a suggestion your body eagerly responds to your legs spread farther apart the wet stickiness for you liquid lust coating your legs. I move agile as a hunter stalking prey. Hot breath slips from my open mouth your body responds. A quick flick of the tongue to the center of pleasure swollen with untamed desire. A moan slips from you. I capitalize and move my hands to the tops of your thighs thumbs upon the pulse.  Felling your emotion gauging you learning you controlling you. Long soft licks begin then as your pulse races and your body yearns for more. I start with hard licks covering the length and breadth of your swollen throbbing pink. I taste you I consume you, I drink your in with mouth eager for most for the sweet ambrosia seeping from you. I must have more I work into a uncontrolled frenzy I feel the quakes of that one single moment building with in you I do not force it I welcome it to come forward. When it does I drink in the gush of your nectar and I hold that moment for as long as your body commands I bring it to the front again.

Then as you lay helpless to my stimulations of you I crawl up upon your sweat covered body. Then in a long and painfully slow motion I penetrate the inner sanctum. The hard fill the soft. I drive into you  again and again your body starts to convulse as that release of pent desires surfaces. The wave hits again I feel your body tighten around me. I thrust harder and deeper licking the sweat soaked body of you biting on your tender neck hard but only to mingle the taste of pain with the all consuming might of pleasure. Our sweat mixes creating a torrent of flavor tinged with the truth of the moment unbound by expectations and judgment we cry out is a final powerful moment and collapse together is intertwined in ways unknown to the casual, unknown to the sexual, only known to the true lovers and, The embrace. Our breathing slows are voices calm and controlled we being speaking of things that remain mysteries to the philosophers still. Yet we do not speak from wonder and curiosity but from the purest truths of knowing.