ODYSSEY TO PARADISE

She described to me in her words in text messages with incredible precision what was happening in the pores of her body as if my eyes were the ones in front of her who could observe, live and feel the madness, a kind of magic that crossed the borders, the seduction in which she was immersed in those moments in which she lost control of the situation, captive of her desires, of her intense delusions as a woman.

There was no explanation, we both couldn't understand that lion's thirst that awoke in me and the need for pleasure in her warm sprays, she just wanted to scream, I wanted to wrap my arms around her waist, in her belly, I didn't want to wait or wait. a minute, her desire overcame her again and again while her orgasms slipped between her fingers, burning her legs, making a mess of her morals, in her fault.

She was an artisan who left the best beats of her heart on the edges of my chest, a divine woman who made her best work of art in my mouth, she was an Amazon who rode on the rigidity of my veins in the search for peace, of glory, his victory and my passion while his nails dug their marks into my back and he intoned in his path the subtle chords of the traces of the best melodies of his breathing.

She described to me that her breasts became like mountains of stone, that she imagined my lips on hers and the voice of my moans near her ears, my beating like a beast in search of its prey, drinking every drop of water from its spring, she wallowed. on the white sheets of her bed and trembled in an event that made her feel alive, a muse... The source of inspiration for my poet's soul.