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.
Princess, There is, in my body, a remnant of its sweetened perfume, and a gentle pressure on my skin remembering the attention of your lips. There’s in my heart a slight squeeze, a mismatch in the beat rhythm, which was dictated for your heartbeat. Princess, there is in my eyes your perfect image depicted with the colors of my love. Princess, in my life, in my life so well lived, only you it’s real.
On a sunny day, on the beach sand, a wave, stirring, broke up your foam and played at my feet. In the blue sky, a seagull, slight, cut the morning and shouted its cry. There was no sadness, and no pain marked the day. In some garden, a flower would reflect, because it was spring. A couple of lovers, in love, smile and caress each other in their love world. Cars rushed down the avenue sea shore, they kept their horns silent. There was no sound louder than the sea. It was a sunny day, and on the beach sand, a wave, happy, foam and played, wetting my feet. Lying down, smiling, I was homesick, from you.
Forever the word be blessed that, coming out of the mouth, the heart comforts, worthy of faith and hopes. be blessed forever the outstretched hand that serving as a guide and mainstay, waving, silences longing. Forever be blessed the salt of tears that fell from the eyes feed the love dearest. Blessed be, forever, the children because in them lies the certainty the birth of a new world that forever, in U.S, will be praised.
When I wanted make a souvenir album collect in order of importance memories that I had in happy insomnia, your image, your dearest, of the love that I have loved all my life, was no longer focused as I saw it, many years ago. When I tried record the words spoken in your mind between laughs that did me good, which he liked in the happy moments we had, there were always those strange sounds, murmurs that I no longer understand, without the beauty of the voice that brought me peace. And the crazy will to rebuild of the beautiful past that I lived, I only had the certainty, in this sad present, to seek his image, which no longer exists and wanting to hear your voice in vain.
What good is it to dream, if my soul is sad and if this pain insists in staying? What good is it to smile, if my soul is sad and if a forced smile is lying? What is worth living for, if my soul is sad and life what is there is suffering? If my soul is sad, if the beauty is over, I just miss you of a happy moment, that passed.
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!
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?