There is that own world that we have. It’s world that we’ve built for ourselves, a world where the laws of everyday life do not apply or make sense. A world that we often escape into when we’re sad and lonely. It’s a perfect world, which contrasts with everything that that’s in real life. That perfect world is our answer to three most pondering notions in philosophy, “What if…”, “Why can’t…”, and “I wish I…”. It’s a world which exists in the difference between the lines,
“ I love you, But. . .” and, “But, I love you.”
It’s where eyes lock together and I caress the warm curves of her skin. As fingers tense there is that lightening that gushes from where I touch to the last nerves on every inch of her body. I slowly tread along her smooth skin and she realizes parts of herself that she didn’t know existed. I play her body like a piano, and she like the most beautiful melody, sways along as I passionately hit the right notes. I wrap her in my arms, like a knight to a mysterious lady, looking into her eyes, travelling into the depth of her soul. Her hand slides along my shoulders. With a rough jerk I pull her close as my lips melt into the warm warp of her ears. Whispering words that hold meaning only to us and no one else. Pushing, as I slowly ink the edge of my lips down the back of her neck. It feels like a drop of water condensing down a chilled glass of cocktail. She feels the lingering moistness slowly withdrawing yet amazingly gaining notice. The more my lips lose touch from her skin the more this feeling flirts with all her senses. Her knees begin to grow weak as my hands grow stronger finding their way to the secret garter under her crimson dress. The woman she feels right now was never heard about, the person she is now was never seen, yet I bring it in her and bring it out raw, unchaining the tigress from her den. Her limits are off limits now, Her passion knows no bounds. There is no amount of caressing; touching and rubbing that would suffice her. She begins to enjoy the taste of her own lips the touch of her own skin. Its like she has fallen in love with the person I have elated her to become. She has a tremendous lust towards this new form of herself she didn’t know existed.
The sparkle from my gift around her neck teases my eye as the lace along her thighs immediately gives up to my hold. I pull her hair and slowly tender her lips. Within that kiss she feels like a different person, she feels strong and belonged, she feels desired, loved and wanted. Her love now knows no more bounds as she exclaims herself to my hold and I carry her to Our World.
For there is nothing more rewarding than her kiss and nothing more beautiful than her eyes.