Contos eróticos com relatos de encontros reais ou fictícios de personagens que se envolvem sexualmente, de forma ocasional/premeditada, descritas em uma linguagem natural, clara e direta, comum durante atos de sacanagem.
It all started as if by a charm. There was an exchange of glances, restraints, unsuspecting conversations, and common words, of which people say, every day. Little by little, the presence of one became necessary, always, to the other, and it was easy to become impossible to live alone. Thus, in the middle of a banal phrase, a look was always born, which to the other said more than any jumble of words. As time passed uncontrollably, it was no longer necessary to speak, to understand each other. One look was enough, and there it was, everything was said. And so, in that way, he knew she loved him, and she knew she had him, love. It all started as if by a charm. Then, little by little, he made the two of us one!
Tudo começou como se por um encanto. Houve troca de olhares, contidos, conversas desavisadas, e palavras comuns, dessas que as pessoas se dizem, todos os dias.
Pouco a pouco, a presença de um foi tornando-se necessária, sempre, ao outro, e foi fácil tornar-se impossível viverem sós. Assim, no meio de uma frase banal, nascia sempre um olhar, que ao outro dizia mais que qualquer amontoado de palavras.
Com o passar incontrolável do tempo, deixou de ser preciso que se falassem, para se entenderem. Bastava apenas um olhar, e pronto, tudo estava dito.
E assim, dessa forma, ele sabia que ela o amava, e ela sabia que tinha dele, o amor.
Tudo começou como se por um encanto.
Depois, pouco a pouco, fez de nós, os dois, um só !
It’s my life. My dreams are yours, my smiles, my hunger for love, my pain and my being. It’s yours, my life, following what you take, indifferent to the cries of love that I send you. As long as there is a light breath of strength, in me, physical or mental, my life will be yours, yours alone. In return, I don’t ask you for anything, nothing at all, even if it keeps me warm, in your loving arms, even if you give me your speech. I want you, and I live on this, since I feel in my desire, dedicating to you what I have in me, and in my world. It’s yours, my life, and nothing else matters to me, if in the silence of the night that you are, I can love you, smiling, more and more, like food and peace, it’s like a dream.
Along the paths stones, sand and grass where my feet went carrying my drama made of meat and weft will be shuffled that lady’s eyes that never again in this life will warm your skin in the softness of my bed. On the way back after so much tiredness having head hung lost out of space and my empty arms alone without a hug venting my eyes dripping drops of dew and the whole body covered patchwork and these callused hand hands from searching for nothing screaming for a fairy making love gestures where will my goddess be who doesn’t notice my pain?