''What shall I be writing about today''? she asks him. She loves it when he gets to see her story before anyone else does. She imagines him reading it and reliving their moment, the one she's writing about. ''Did I render it correctly?'' she asks him. ''Perfectly'', he reassures her. ''C' mon, write one yourself,''she urges him. ''One written from your own point of you, your own vantage point, you know?'' ''No'', he says. ''I love your rendition of our story.'' ''Pitch perfect. Beautiful.'' ''Straight from your heart'' ''I wouldn't change a thing''. And that's about the sweetest thing a man could say to his lover who is writing their own love story..
The moment she let him into her heart
She can remember the exact time she let him into her heart. It wasn't on the day the actually met. No, it was earlier She's crying . Easter time. She has lit some candles. Αt work, alone. Everything seems to be crumbling at her feet. And she feels so alone, as every human being has felt at one time or another in our lives. Phone rings. It's him. His soothing voice. Maybe he's just fooling around. Maybe he truly missed her and wanted to catch up with her news . Just a voice with no face. Then, for some reason, at that particular moment she let him in. Into her heart. He kept banging at the door of her heart for quite some time. She would answer politely, but wouldn't invite him in. On that day, she did open the door and welcomed him inside. Then all kinds of magic broke loose....
''Ι' ll be inspecting every inch of your body'', he said, over the phone. She laughed. Firstly because of the choice of words, 'inspect',
what a strange thing to say... And because she doubted they'll ever, (ever!) meet And even if they did, they'd have other stuff to do,
more likely nothing like inspections, right?
Plus, inspecting what??? imperfections, came to her insecure mind or harsh reality, so different to the imaginary world they had been building over the last 5 months she didn't like the sound of it and quickly brushed it aside 14 months on his fingers caressing her body after a passionate session of love consummated i n s p e c t i n g every inch of it the curve of her back between her thighs under those ear lobes the sculp of her head, running fingers between locks of hair the rough spot on her heels inspecting again and again looking for signs of change since the last time he met her noticing the passing of time through his fingertips just like he did the very first time they were naked together i n s p e c t i n g every inch of her body as he had promised... then tracing those inspected itineraries with soft kisses Inspettore dell' Amore..
What's so strange about falling in love with a soul? She fell in love with his mind and ideas and his kind heart first. Then, got enamored with his voice. Then his deep caring for her. His sensuality, ever present in all their interactions, finished her off. Swept her off her feet, totally smitten with everything except his physical. She had no idea what he looked like. She did have a few clues of course. Still, no expectations. She knew she'd love his features. She just knew it. No two souls can be so infatuated with each other unless the physical spark is there, even in its potential form. But having spent all this time getting to know him intimately without even seeing his face meant that his physical form was imprinted in her subconscious. His face already sweetly familiar to her heart. And when he did come along, her soul exclaimed ''There you are! I knew it it was you!'' And later on, looking at his picture, she goes ''How perfectly everything about him matches his physical...''
''When I come to you, you won't even know it's me'', he said.
They were talking about their first meetup. First ever.
''Of course I would! The very idea! My soul would recognise you! Anywhere! '' He says nothing. Only chuckles. It turns out, both of them were actually right......
First Impressions continued
What are you doing tonight?''
There is this younger man ,chatting her up.
She's bored.She is trying to find a way
to politely let him know she's not interested
without hurting his feelings.
''Well, my kids are waiting for me and so...''
He presses on, undaunted.
He is too young and not her type anyway.
Then HE comes along.
Approaching quietly, like a tomcat.
The one she was so hoping to meet that afternoon,
the one she didn't know she was talking to at that moment.
''What kind of eyes are those?
Gosh....so sweet and tender!''
( Her first impression of him)
''Who are you? It feels like I already know you from somewhere.''
Her second thought:
''Please ask me out.
YOU should be the one to ask me out,
not that boring boy who's trying to chat me up.
Go ahead and ask me out, I'll say yes!''
He doesn't ask her out.
Instead, he offers to escort her
to the nearest subway station.
It's getting late.
And she asks for his number first.
She wants to have a way to keep in touch with him.
But he wasn't planning
on leaving her alone, anyway.
He had already schemed and staged their meeting after all...
Her clever schemer of a man...
And this is when I first felt it
Sitting in that cafe in your part of the world on our first real date..
That moment when I told you the things that were on my mind, the burden in my heart that I had been crazy afraid to say, and you just looked at me in the most heartbreakingly beautiful way, (as if I had already told you before), a gleam of recognition of a kindred spirit in your kind eyes, looking at me like, “why was this such a big deal to tell me?” And I felt it, felt it going through me the electrifying feeling: ''I'm as much in love with the real him as with his crafted persona.....''
The Signing Of The Deal
She is tipsy it's late afternoon the restaurant is crowded and they are both full and in a great mood after a hearty meal on this fine autumn afternoon neither cold nor hot, mellow, mellow, his voice mellow, sunshine mellow too neither glaring nor weak, but just fine, and they are fine too their first real date ever (first meetings don't count) and somehow it seems like they 've been dating for ever a cozy familiarity between them the thrill of anticipation and the warmth of familiarity both present ''and how can that be?'' she is wondering. She was nervous before in the long hours it took her to reach her destination overthinking, overanalysing and eager, oh ever so eager and excited then she goes ''fuck it, I don't care, I'll just take a nap'' and she does, but when she wakes up with a jolt she's finally there, and she suddenly sees him, waiting for her ''on time'', she mentally notes but she's still half asleep, eyes still dreamy and suddenly she's so shy
like the awkward adolescent she used to be years ago and she wants some comfort to overcome her shyness but the only comfort available is his arms so she hugs him tight, taking him by surprise, because he didn't see it coming, because she seems nervous and agitated. There goes all her poise and plans to look fabulous she kisses him on the cheeks he smiles and opens the door of his car for her she sinks in her seat then suddenly a heavenly calmness dawns on her it feels so natural and sweet being next to him soaking in his smile it feels, well, yes, a platitude, but so true it feels like home. Time flies sparks fly sparks and warmth familiarity and excitement how could that be? she wonders tipsy and full and content in that restaurant a sweet, indescribable feeling of belonging all so natural and soul-soothing her cheeks flashed by the wine him leaning a bit too close Then, out of the blue he leans forward more and kisses her a kiss as soft as a whisper tentative his lips soft soft sweet heavenly the velvety, moist texture of his lips giving and asking inviting her in... She walks in on his world and closes the door behind her without making a sound. ''You had me there, with that kiss, in that restaurant, '' she tells him, months later. ''You sealed the deal with it'' ''But you didn't respond at first, you didnt kiss me back'', he remarks. ''No, I didnt'', she smiles. ''You see,no deal is carried out immediately after it is signed. There is some waiting time involved''. ''Some waiting time it was! '' he laughs. ''A couple of hours later'' ''Yes'', she answers back. '' I just couldn't wait to get my hands on the bonus!''
In a haze of pleasure
no other word can describe the sensation
and even that
doesn't come close
to what she has in mind to describe
to her memory of that first night.
in that homely room apartment
up the second floor
of a small village house
so much cozier than an impersonal hotel room
so thoughtful of him
to arrange it this way. Away from everyone and everything
She has no expectations
an overwhelming sense of trust
it's all so well arranged,
so well taken care of
she can just relax and enjoy.
Neither of them in a hurry
no, not steamy
no urgency or hurried tension
just this amazingly soothing feeling
of having done this a thousant times before
though their bodies have never actually met
in lovemaking before.
Warmth creeps onto her
as if emerging from his heart
and she can sense it
feeling ever so safe
he, in turn, tells her
''you are so, so sweet''
somewhat taken aback by her openness
her precise responsiveness to him
as if in a slow, velvety tango
He lets her dictate the pace
nevertheless leading expertly lets her catch her breath for a moment
then takes her back to the dancing floor
again and again and again and again
His stamina astounds her
-won't he ever get tired???-
she is unaccustomed
to so much loving
coupled with a whole feast of
and exploring fingers
and his truly gifted superpowers
like whipped cream on a yummy cake
She keeps wondering
''How could he possibly know
that I like this, and this and that and that?''
''Have I told him? Or is he just guessing?''
In a haze of pleasure
she keeps falling asleep, exhausted
only to be gently woken up again after a while
soft whisper in her ears
''come on, doll face, it's yours for the asking...''
After a while
to the sweet feeling
of being pleasured again and again and again
of not knowing
when this sex marathon will ever end
of being fed and ravished and feasted upon
of the purely physical joy of endless lovemaking
Then it's morning
and her first thought upon waking up
(after just one and a half hour of a night's sleep)
We still have another day
ahead of us! Another day of THAT!''
More freedom. More life.
''This string necklace is choking you'', he observed. Morning after their first night together ''Now that you mentioned it, yeah, it kind of feels too tight. Please cut it off'', she asked. And he did, with a penknife and the immediate sense of relief was enormous. ''Boy, that one really was choking me''. she observed. Then went on to cut off all 6 of her necklaces. New beginnings. More freedom. More life. For both of them....
He was crying Real tears of the kind that can soak up a pillow, of the kind that cannot be held back of the kind that keep rolling down cheeks like twin silent little streams of distress. She sat up on the bed perplexed deeply moved unsure of how he'd like her to deal with it and of why he was crying. Τheir time together -first ever!- almost up she was still in that special haze of pleasure he had intentionally set up the orgasm fairy world of his own orchestration and she was trying to let all those miracles of body and soul sink in that orgy of colors and smells and whispers and sighs to just cool down. ''Ι won't think long term', she told herself. 'It was a once in a lifetime experience 'I'll just cherish the memories make do with just this a one time thing...'' that's what she told herself plus, she didnt have much time to think of anything at all, too much fucking too much loving in that big, big bed in that small, small rented room in that small, small neutral town in that heavenly, blissful date of consumated love. But it was almost parting time and he was crying in a very real and human way her stud crying for what?
''Why?'' ''The dream is over'', he answers. Just like that. Simple. ''Then, you dont want it to be over?'' His calm, deep voice: ''No...'' Just like that, they decide to keep the magic alive to keep it going to be together. No drama, no waiting by the phone for her like a true chivalrous knight he spared her the pain or the inner doubts or the misgivings the 'what ifs' of ambiguity no commitment phobia of his male ego just gliding gracefully along smoothly, flying along the dancing floor of their budding love story. She kisses him gratefully. ''But..how?'', the details seem too confusing to her. 'We'll find a way', he reassures her in that velvet voice of his. Then off she goes, all the takeaway delicacies he bought for her journey forgotten left behind in his car.
''I'll be coming to see you again this week'', he said when they were about to part. She was still dazed and hazy disoriented and a bit undone from too much lovemaking after their first weekend together. She didn't have time to analyse, rationalise, ponder over things or think about anything remotely related with a continuation of all this. She was too busy drinking in the sensations. But he said he'd be coming over... She looks at him ''Yes!'' , she hears herself saying grateful, ever so grateful he wouldn't let her miss him or wait by the phone...
Then here he is again this time in her hometown car wheels screeching, car window rolled down, flashing his gorgeous smile at her and that overwhelming sensation of joy tells her, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that yes, she missed him so! She greets him, gets in his car and as he is driving down the road he shows her: a long strand of her hair tied around the gear shift like some kind of magic ribbon or talisman of choice... ''I found it in our room when you left...'' he explains, almost coyly. Then her heart swells with emotion for that rare treasure of a man. ''I have always been a lucky girl'', she reminds herself mentally grinning from ear to ear
She loves the excitement in his voice when they are discussing plans for his upcoming visit. ''He is looking forward to it'', she says to herself. ''Baby, I'm gonna make it worth your while, just as much as you make it worth mine....''
Stressed she was back then extremely low in life energy her energy system on the verge of colapse accident prone, in fact alternating between stressed and lethargic desperate.. There was no way out of her prison except.. except for her to find something to love and be loved back something she deemed worthy in essence, the only solution would be to be focusing her mind on something positive and powerful enough to cause the transformation. Love was the name. He observed her from afar tried to help in the abstract didnt work.. she needed the tangible thing the verification of another human being in flesh and blood caring... So he took a deep breath and approached. They created a strong vortex of love energy that slowly started healing her energising her rejuvenating her uplifting first her body then her heart and mind. then the unexpected bonus: it worked both ways empowering him too filling his cup of joy too... their vortex of love the one they were lost in hiding from the world and finding their true selves
It is real. That Vortex of Energy is real. Every time they come together, to play, talk, laugh, eat, make love, touch, hug, kiss, text message, sing, smell and bite each other, their strong vortex of energy created afresh. A vortex of irresistible power. Not just love power. A vortex of a myriad of streams of unique energy, made up of their combined vibrations produced and dispersed into the world around them palpable almost visible certainly tangible like a yummy rainbow of palpitations surrounding them oozing silently, soaking up their bodies then their bed, their nest, their neighborhood their town thei silently radiating to all four corners of the earth. The life force of each his strong, intent, intuitive one hers sweeter, charming and joyous combined in a unique gem of energy. They sense it themselves nourishing them relaxing them, rejuvenating them. But so do other people. People smell it off them on their bodies his and hers. Like a fine aroma. Or an exquisite film of golden pixie dust. Most are attracted to this fine blend of super-charged merge wanting a bite off it or curious, not quite knowing why few are enraged (envy?) but all noticing it and usually commenting on it: ''Hey, what did ya do to your face?'' Their combined love energy spilling over like iridescent molten lava.
Off They Go
Those very first moments in his car. She gets in Sits down, flustered. And happy. Their time together begins, that's why. She adjusts her skirt, looks up at him. He is always half smiling, merriment, amusement and?... She always talks first Something silly, a platitude. ''I missed you''. ''Me too''. He shifts the car into gear, wheels screeching, off they go. Their private haven, their sanctuary, their salvation. Off they go, off they went.... ''You dont know me. You don't love me, you love the experience'', he accuses. She lowers her eyes, tears hovering, tears rolling down freely. So harsh, so unfair.... No explanations. She shuts eyes. Whispers: ''YOU are the experience... You are my experience. I love YOU...'' Off they go ...
''What's the first thing you noticed about me?'' ''Your eyes. You?'' ''Your eyes...'' Lost in his eyes, she is. Unspeakably attractive. Radiating warmth, interest, amusement. Kind eyes. Extremely intelligent eyes. Loving eyes. Lying eyes (sometimes) Calm eyes Penetrating eyes, reading souls Sexy and serious eyes Reliable, trustworthy eyes Wide-eyes Eyes that know how to hide or take on roles Naughty, playful eyes Adoring eyes Compassionaste, so compassionate eyes Smiling eyes Flirty eyes His eyes. 'Your eyes are strange', she tells him. Not because they keep changing. But because they are so intense, no matter what expression they are wearing.' First time one sees those eyes, one feels like stepping back. Like,wow, this is too much. Too much of himself piercing into your soul. And it catches you unawares and you feel a bit like gasping. Too intense. Way too intense. Then, you exhale and begin to enjoy it
-''What was your first impression of me when you saw me?'', she asks him. -''Honestly?'' -''Yes.'' -''I thought you were too thin back then and with a drawn out face... But I was so taken by those eyes of yours, they sort of obliterated everything else. ''Those eyes had me...''
Up in the Mountain Cabin
Up in the Mountain Cabin
To be snowing outside and the wind howling like it does up there blowing billows of snowflakes and to be pitch dark because there aint no street lamps up in the mountains baby and the fire crackling away and the wine is red red red and sweet and the chocolate treats are sweet sweet and chocolatey and the water up there is tasty because it comes from a special spring and the cabin is cozy and the bedcovers are warm and his smile is warmer and she feels all warm and cozy inside as she always does in his presence and they spend all time there is talking eating and drinking and fucking and basking in the warmth of each other's presence content happy in love their love story
και χιονιζει και χιονιζει κι η αγαπη τους ανθιζει και η αλεπου χορευει και ο λυκος αγορευει...
Like A Dog. Or A Wolf
She'd sleep in his arms, exhausted, during their first weekend in the mountains together, then wake up after a while still in his arms to see him still wide awake, waiting for her... Hours upon hours of loving and cuddling and talking and enjoying each other no sleeping or eating for him like a dog or like a wolf mating intent on an age-old purpose. She'd admire his stamina his strong will guiding an equally strong body his insatiable desire to please her body and nourish her soul she soaked in that sweet sweet feeling of being the intense focus of one's tenderness ''Oh but surely, he's bound to fall asleep eventually?'', she wondered. Then after two sleepless days of strong amour he finally falls asleep she tiptoes away from the bed relieved for him to finally be getting some rest she treats herself to some chocolate watches the shadows growing longer and longer on the mountains out of the window warms herself by the fire warmth creeping into her mind, her heart, her body still open and a bit raw from their lovemaking she checks on him lying peacefully on the bed then she realises he's been watching her behind half closed lids his gaze following her around she climbs on the bed, laughing ''You must be either a genius or a saint to be able to go 48 hours without sleep'', she whispers to him. ''Or a madman'', he jokes back, smiling ''Like him'', she mentally comments. ''Exactly what I was looking for, equal parts of madness and genius.'' ''That's my man''
Then she stops thinking and starts feeling as she always does when buried in the nest of his arms
On The Importance Of Lingerie
When they first started dating she'd go on a lingerie hunting spree each time they were about to get together she loved the feeling hunting for sexy lingerie for him frilly, flimsy, lacey, pretty little things to adorn her body make her pretty and desirable in his eyes ''men have a thing with watching , just as we women have with listening'', she'd repeat to herself as she kept rummaging through aisles of bras
laden with ribbons and lace she would try to find a particular set that would set the right tone for their next night: sexy and seductive or all pastel and girly and innocent? as the sales girl was handing her her shopping bag she'd mentally recreate the atmosphere around those sexy underwear pieces she'd rehearse the looks, the moves, the sounds smiling to herself in sweet anticipation girly, silly enthusiasm that crept into her heart keeping her warm and happy until it was time for him to come back to her then he was there and they were kissing in sheer abandon and it was time for her to do her thing her sexy underwear thing to drive him crazy but.. he was crazy for her already... and she was oh so hungry for him and so always, always, always she'd get rid of the carefully selected, seductive underwear throw them carelessly about needless distractions that they were and head straight into his arms butt naked and giggly and warm
''Ομορφιά μου'', he tells her
''My beauty''... First thing in the morning. When she's just woken up. Eyes still bleary from sleep
Hair in a terrible mess frightful enough to scare the brave hairstylist on the face of this planet Not a speck of makeup on her. 'My beauty''...he tells her. And she melts like butter on toast...
Watching the light outside getting dimmer and dimmer, the car windows getting more and more fogged up, their breaths quickening, bodies engaged in the ancient tango of love and lust... Precious, steamy moments, all their own...
Back and Forth....
''How long will you be staying?'' She always asks that. It goes like this: -''What are you doing tomorrow ?'' -''Nothing much. Why?'' -''Because I thought I'd be coming over, can you...???'' -Yaaaaaaayyyyyyyy! How long will you be staying?'' Answers vary: -''Three days'' or ''three hours'' or ''just for today'' The three hours thing makes her weep. Secretly. With gratitude. Realizing he goes to all that trouble, expenses time he cannot afford planning sometimes even scheming and plotting just to come to her, just for a few hours just to hold her make love to her fill them both up with stars and stardust after he leaves again, to beam himself to her place as if by magic, except this kind of magic utilises his own exhaustion at the end of the day. She weeps secret tears of gratitude for his thoughtfulness tenderness and chivalry at doing this for her and not the other way round... Her archangel of lust beaming himself to her for three hours of bliss.... How do you combine two different worlds? Totally different worlds? You don't. You just beam yourself there loving all the way back and forth...
''Yeah, you're my cartoon!'' he tells her. Sitting at that busy outdoor cafe, people coming and going, he tells her she looks like a cartoon character. '' In an ugly, horrible way?'', she asks, laughing. ''No, in a cute, sweet and adorable way! Her charming man. Who has a way with words and with cute little endearments, all their own, just for them..
''Quick, duck down!'' He pushed her head down at the right fraction of the second before they were spotted. ''Come up now,'' he said, ''it's over.'' And they start laughing hysterically at the absurdness of it. ''What says you?'' he asks. ''One. Your reflexes are vey good'', she smiles. ''Two. You kept reassuring me, 'dont worry, dont worry we weren't spotted' the whole time. That's very sweet. And you operate well under stress. I love you'' He kisses her goodbye. So much for ducking down in the first place! And as he revs up, windows rolled down, he makes the ducking movement with his hand and the hysteric laughter goes on. Filling that small town with the merriment of love
Same star sign
The sheer joy of being loved by someone whose mind works in the same range of frequencies, whose heart beats to the beat of the same drums. So comforting to have your thoughts almost read at times. To be so much alike. To be born under the same star signs. ''There's a special magic about the time we were both born, baby'' he tells her. ''In times gone by conception of people born under our sign was rare, because it would have to happen during Lent -the fasting period before Easter- when people had to observe fasting and abstain from sex... the church somehow knew that people born under that sign are too rebellious, weird and uncontrollable for the establishment's safety, so they had to stop their creation by raising religious taboos''. Yes, she loves the way that mind of his works... Forget humdrum about opposites attracting each other. See what happens when two people born under the same star sign fall in love and set out to love each other as only they know how....
Everything we have changes us at a physical level like a fever like a new job a new car a new friend or a soulmate Soul mates change us the most, admittedly. The body follows suit , she observes, as the soul renews itself the soul playing in physical reality with new things, new people, new experiences. Observing, noticing in her mirror in his eyes or in other people's stares: Her face getting dewyer sweeter hues of peach eyes radiant body softer each and every one of the cells in her entire body smiling gait lighter stars and glitter except of the real kind. She feels soaked in stars and it shows, oh yes, it shows. The real surprise though is the ripening within heart dripping mellow acceptance of what is and mind laser focused sharper more eager than ever even her writing style changed. 'Energy transfer,', she tells him 'that's what it is' 'My female part becoming extra receptive to your energy'. 'I like your energy', she adds. 'It's loaded with stars' 'What about star overload?' he mocks 'No worries,' she mocks back. 'It goes both ways' 'Communicating vessels'
That Old Churchyard
Countless times have they made love in front of that old churchyard in that secluded churchyard overlooking the small town. Their favorite spot, watching the light dimming all around the wooded hill, town lights flickering like enchanted little stars at their feet in the distance. And the old fortress church dating back to the time of knights and heroes, the old church with all its saints silently watching over them, keeping guard at their back keeping guard of their dreams....
A person who is in love has wings on their feet, she knows that everyone knows that. Love heals everything, empowers everything She loves rituals . Rituals that have meaning only for her. Her personal brand of magic. She wants to celebrate an anniversary of love on a beautiful full moon week. She chooses roses, her favorite flower. Their love is a multisplendour thing, so multi-colored roses it is. She won't buy the rose, for love has nothing to do with buying-and-selling. It must be found, searched for,encountered or freely given. She walks all over the town, outskirts and all. Many abandoned homes with gardens full of rose beds surviving as if by miracle. She has spotted them on her daily walks. Then there are friends' and relatives' gardens she 'll stop by, asking for rose blessings. She returns home with one red, red rose seven multi-colored ones in full bloom and a tender rose bud. All hand-picked, found or begged for. All so fragrant and beautiful, you'd think you're gonna faint just by smelling them. Each rose stands for an aspect of their love -Crimson-Red Rose for the physical, sexual part of their love -White Rose for the pure, unconditional, selfless love -Pink Rose for the romantic, tender, youthful, cherished love -Violet-purple Rose for spiritual communion of soul love (a rare thing that emits the headiest fragrance of them all) -Magenta Rose for passion, empowerment and freedom -Orange Rose for joy, exuberance, festivity and lightheartedness -Yellow Rose for deeper understanding, companionship, frendship and a small rose bud so that love is always new and budding She boils the petals of the red one mixes them with honey and some brandy makes herself a delicious rose tea puts the rest of the roses in a crystal bowl She drinks to their loving his and hers Blessed be the love that stands the test of time.....
She says: ''I'm your personal Houdini. I do my disappearing art and you disappear in my arms lost to the world'' He nodds his head 'You are my haven,my retreat. I come to you and I'm lost to the world, away from everything' She smiles. She loves magic tricks of disappearing
She doesn't remember much of the best part of that day. They took a day trip to that lake she wanted them to visit. Except it was raining hard all day, boat trip was cancelled. They ended up in a little taverna instead. Crowded, it was a puplic holiday. She was unaccustomed to that particular kind of strong liquor, got drunk on it . He had to practically carry her back to his car. As sick as a dog she was and in her drunken stupor she remembers asking him, again and again: ''Who are you?'' Each time she asked, he would give her a different name, while driving along, smiling, amused humoring her, playing along.
''You have to stop , NOW!'' she said. He pulled over, came round to open her door, held her hair while she was being sick on the road side. After that she can't remember much, except for that dog. Big brute. What the heck was a dog doing in the middle of nowhere? He was friendly with him but not with her, kept trying to snap at her hand, he had to hurry her into the car again. She fell asleep on his car seat and he kept driving along. She woke up still there, tucked under his coat him patiently waiting for her. ''I am ruining your life'', he said. ''I should have never come to you in the first place'' He never explained what he meant...
''I'm warning you'', she tells him over the phone. ''We're gonna be holding hands tomorrow. And kissing in public, 'tis the right city for public displays of affection'' ''Downtown?'' he asks. She can sense a smile in his voice. ''Yes. You'd better get used to the idea''. Then the next day he's waiting for her at that picturesque historical square bearing the name of an ancient philosopher on the seafront, under those beautiful arches. Early morning, the city awakes to a cloudy, gloomy sky. She is late, or maybe she isn't, she's just so eager to see him. Missed him. It's been almost two weeks. She's in the upper part of the street leading to the square, she's just gotten off the bus. God, how she missed him. Eagerness and happy anticipation swelling in her chest, she starts running towards the seafront towards him, waiting for her. Cheeks flashed -it's still cold- she's running among empty cafes and tavernas lining up the side of the square. There he is, smiling and she can sense his smile even before she sees it and she almost throws herself at him kissing him and now he is laughing: ''Judging by the way you ran, that passer by thought you were about to attack me, you should see the look on his face'' ''Told you to get used to public displays of affection'', she retorts, face buried in his collar, getting quick whiffs of his beloved smell. She can sense his joy too. What a glorious feeling, to be your lover's pride and joy....
They are in his car, he is driving. Scenic landscape out of the windows. Sunshine. And cold. Early Spring it is. They joy of having a whole day ahead of them. His calm, reassuring presence. Her eagerness and excitement. He is up to something, she can tell. Arriving at a small village. He is making a phone call. ''To a friend'', he says (the little lier!) ''He has a room for us''. A man is waiting for them. Guides them to the place and she goes ''gosh!'', catching her breath. A very old, granny house. Like the ones she used to explore as a kid in her hometown Abandoned-like exterior Wooden front door Derelict atmosphere Long, winding interior staircase lovely mustiness dust and memories of times gone by nice little rooms granny feeling antique lamps whitewashed walls paint peeling lovely and a cheerful lady changing sheets in the bed for them silk ones extra blankets inquiring look on her face and a few questions hovering on her lips ''This was my mother's-in-law house, 'needs renovation, we haven't gottwen round to it'', as she is trying to determine their status couple? engaged? affair? fucking buddies? she gives up, she cant tell leaves them murmuring about coffee and buscuits in the cluttered little kitchen they jump in that little bed to warm themselves cold, crispy atmosphere befitting that old home old bed covers decadence view from battered shutters heaven.... her teenage dream come true... did he know? or a coincidence? who cares? Afterwards she's concerned about the stained bedsheets they are leaving behind a few bloody splotches of her menses ''Don't worry'', he laughs ''she 'll think I ''deflowered ' you Off they go, laughing and teasing it's getting darker outside...
In Full Bloom
''That's the place'', he says pulling the car over to a litttle sideway. ''Nice and cozy here''. Early spring. The heating on inside his car their breaths and desire keeping it nice and warm. And soothing, too Dusk time, beautiful, soft magenta and purple colours of a heart-warming sunset dying the country sky, to their right green sloping hills dotted with villas or little country houses to the left a small country road with the occasional lights of a car interrupting the falling darkness. His mouth, his teeth, his breathing so close to her ear as he lowers himself ontο her ''my little foxy...'' She engulfs herself into his energy enjoying the moment rises with the familiar wave of those love-induced, passion-lit, spine-quivering highs of hers, and as she is slowly coming down from her peak she turns her head and sees it: they are parked under a beautiful tree in full bloom a magnificent canopy of white flowers hovering over the car white cascades of (plum?) blossoms framing the windows all around them like a joyous statement punctuating their lovemaking His breathing still in her neck his body lightly draped over hers and the stars already visible through the branches of that gorgeous tree ladden with white, white blossoms 'I love being a country girl'', she reminds herself
A cold, cold winter's night
''All 's clear'', she says. ''You may come now''. She hangs up warms up some chicken for him, turns up the heating, lights up some candles. Mid-winter and bitterly cold outside. Foggy, too. Dreamlike-foggy, the kind of foggy you see in old thriller movies. He arrives ten minutes later, his teeth chattering, shivering from cold, from having been woken up in the middle of the night and from walking out in the freezing cold. She crawls up in bed beside him. ''I'll warm you up in no time, baby...'', she promises. And she does...
Their destination: a 13th century old cloister. Driving in a small country road, winding upwards in the rising hills. Warm sunshine, light mood and a heated car seat for her because it's still cold and he likes indulging her and she loooves it! Countryside green alternating between wooded hills and open meadows. It seems theirs is the only car on the road. Suddenly, a herd of free range cattle scattered all over the place blocking their way, and a huge bull standing right in front of their car. Calm but obstinate, with the confidence of his bulk and the defiance of an alfa male protecting his territory, not moving an inch just standing there, staring at them. ''Now what?'', she wonders. ''They can be dangerous, once provoked, you know''.
He winds down his car window. ''Hey! Move !'' The bull hears the commad in his voice and obeys, head down slowly moving aside and taking the rest of the herd with him granting them a pass. ''I was damn scared for a moment,'' she tells him as he drives on. ''That beast was huge.'' ''Did you see his enormous balls?'' she adds laughingly. Then, after some thought: ''...but obviously, your balls are bigger than his!''
It Began All Wrong
''But It began all wrong, '' he thinks to himself. ''The wrong way. ''Wrong is wrong. It started out shallow, almost a prank, for fun, you know??'' Another conquest to prove a point as many other countles, countless times. He felt powerful, all-omnipotent and clever. And invincible By all. By love and other nonsense. So he realises along the way it's now gotten to something serious. Palpable. Cherished by both. Who did it? Her yearning? Or his secret longing? Who cares? All it matters is, it's here now. He realises and tells her so, tells her, so that he soothes his heart for starting it out the wrong way. He tells her, ''we need to talk, this is getting serious'' She looks on, wide eyed. She knows, how could she not? She is part of his heart now, so of course she knows. No need for words to come tumbling out, she just knows what's in his heart. He has started craving a simple and true thing in a world full of fake, overly complicated overly irrelevant nonsense. He wants s o m e t h i n g that fits. Nicely. Doesn't wonna hurt her. This beautiful thing they have, he wants it all purified. All perfected, sparkingly clean. Sanctified. Dignified. And the fact it started out all wrong pains him. Like a thorn in a rosy, young flesh. It just doesn't belong there. He wants to either put it to rights or release the pain. Or make everything about it perfect, to make up for its fake beginning. ''Baby, the word doesn't work this way. ''All dolled up. ''This world we live in? ''Full of mistakes. ''Full of regrets. ''Imperfect. ''Fragile. ''Nothing fits like a glove. ''Nothing is hustle-free, pain-free, wrong-free.'' ''You are here and all I need.'' ''Perfection reigns only in fairy tales.'' ''Gimme the raw you. ''All of it. ''Real and Raw. ''And Hurting as Hell sometimes. ''Because it's real, in the flesh. ''Imperfectly beautiful and so divinely perfect'' I'm done wirth fairy tales'', she says. ''Give me the real, raw thing''. Then waits, until her message could sink in. And keeps waiting for imperfection to surface and to be lovingly shared.
Their nest To house and nurture their love Small, perched up there their one-bedroom portal to their universe their extra big bed for extra big doses of velvety hugs and honey-dripping lovemaking and him kissing her again and again hungry, noisy kisses leaving an invisible trace all over her body and her smelling his body like a happy little animal and coffee making and moon gazing on rooftops and spilling love over the world like molten lava
Wishing Time Would Stop On Its Tracks
Happens to her all the time since she met him. Wishing time would stop on its tracks
please God, please universe please time fairy please my angel please rainbow of good luck please whoever is in charge of the passing of time freeze time for me when... -kisses and sighs are happening in equal doses -soul gazing into each other's eyes -her in his arms -him in her -them in each other please freeze time for me, she asks whoever you are in charge of the passing of time it aint fair this passing of time... like a flash when they are together, then going into reverse mode, in slow motion when they are apart time goes by so quickly.. when joy is dripping from every corner of their soul... then it's time for him to go away again back to his grey world and her back to hers 'when's the next time?' she asks he answers and she immediately counts days mentally classifying... either 'fine' or 'bearable' or 'oh God please give me strength'... then she realises all those mystics are right time does not exist we always live in the eternal Now of Togetherness Forever Like a happy ending of a fairy tale loving is in the eternal forever of Now and she falls asleep smiling... dreaming of their Now...
Five Times Five
''Five times five'', he said. ''I dont believe you were counting'',she said. ''I'm not! Oh, ok, I am', he smiles at her. 'Don't tell anyone about it', he advises, half serious, half joking. 'For one thing, they won't believe you.' 'For another, it's good to protect one's self from stupid envy'. ''No need to'', she answers back. ''Bliss shows on face, clearly and eloquently. Everyone knows , at a gut level, just by looking at us''.
''Our combined light lights up by example drab days, drab towns. drab lives...''
That very first moment. When she sees him again after it's been some time. First, there's this initial shock. No better word to describe it. 'Cause his eyes are so intense that they make her shudder. Something indescribable about that face making her shudder with joy. She is taken aback for a moment, by those intense dark eyes fixed on her eyes, searching her face, piercing her soul. You gotta love those eyes. Then she's overwhelmed with joy: ''God, I love the shit outta this man! And he's here, with me! And he will be here for sometime! This is Heavens!'' She throws herself at him hugging him, kissing him melting in his arms. Yes, she loves him.. But the best part is, that sweet feeling that she is loved back....
I Shall Eat
''Why is it that I can't seem to get enough of you? Ever?'' She is asking in earnest and expecting an answer. She trully believes he might have a clue. ''Why can't I get enough of you in the physical? Like, even when I'm full, I still wonna have some more? Have I turned into a greedy bitch, or what'' ''Don't know'', he laughs. ''But there is a greek saying that goes 'when there is food offered , eat it. when there is a beating up , beat it' ''Eating it is then'', she declares. And digs in
''Let's drive down this road'', he points at a small winding dirt road, lost in the woods. She hesitates. It's her homeplace, but she hasn't been there before, has no idea where it is leading up to. ''Οk, let's go''. Just a dirt road. Among fir trees. Late spring but so windy. She likes it being there of all places with him. She likes his driving. His calmness matching the serene countryside. He is always calm, except when he gets mad. Winding further down that road, descending, ascending and it occurs to her it doesn't matter whether they reach a destination. Anywhere is great so long as they are together. Driving, driving down that dirt road. Idyllic woods scenery. Then they see it That lonely little church perched up on a hill. ''Countryside chapels'', they are called here, varying in size and architecture scattered all over roads, highways and village squares . They arrive on that hilltop. Breathtaking view beneath their feet. ''Please park the car a bit closer to the churchyard,'' she pleads. Too near the edge of the cliff, it makes her nervous. But then, it's lovemaking time in that car of his overloaded with love and lust parked outside a country chapel overlooking the green valley. And her nervousness turns into that cozy feeling of hotness rising, building up in waves and cascades. It's windy and the sky is getting darker and it's drizzling when they are finally headed home car stereo blasting one of his favorite songs he'd like to share with her. It's moving. The song, the silent road lit by the car headlights that blissful feeling of contentment in this moment they are sharing Is there a thing such as
''I dont believe in energy transfer and the like bullshit'', he tells her. The next moment he puts his palm on her forehead doing energy transfer. She senses it. Smiles. She likes that particular brand of energy. Strong and calm. Her favorite flavor. ''We are communicating vessels after all'', she tells herself.
When it's time to go, melancholy sets in, a clenching fist in her chest. Maybe he feels it too, but they get busy getting dressed sorting things out, picking up stuff, putting out the rubbish and the pain gets numbed for a while, until he locks the door and off they go down the stairs. But on the way down she always poses as the parting pain is gripping her again, so she in turn grabs him and kisses him long and hard there on the stair landing. He kisses her long and hard too murmuring 'mmmmmmmm'', as they both comfort each other with their goodbye kiss. She tries to concentrate on the beauty of the days they 've just spent, concentrate on the comfort of the moments they've shared but the pain is still there. It's parting time, baby but my heart never parts with yours.....
I miss you.
I always miss you so.
The second you leave,
I miss you.
And even before sometimes.
I swear I miss you
even before you leave,
knowing that parting time is getting closer.
I've learnt to love you
missing you all the time.
Sometimes the missing is
Othertimes it's searing hot,
hard and unbearably sad.
Then I tell you about it.
And you somehow feel responsible
for my missing you
and you get angry for 'me not being reasonable',
because it's hard enough for you
trying to contain your own missing of me,
but mine,my sadness for missing you
that is too much for you.
And you get distant and angry
for my missing you like that
because your being distant somehow
makes parting sadness
Until next time....
On the occasions they can spend the night together, really sleep together, not just make love, they have established a routine: she falls asleep in his arms her head nestled in his chest his nose buried in her hair cheesily romantic but sooo comforting for both. Then, after a while when it becomes uncomfortable, they turn back to back but still needing to touch each other. If either of them wakes up in the middle of the night they move their body closer to be in full body contact again. She says: ''I love it when we're spooning and you have your leg on top of me, leg hugging is the best.'' He says: ''I love it when you 're asleep and I have your butt touching my body'' hedonism, sweet and tender...
''What is it?''
''What is it that makes me so crazy about him?'' She often wonders about that. Why him? Why THIS much? Then the answer comes automatically. As if in a whisper in her ear: ''Because he is ALWAYS with me. Always. Caring. Loving. Advising. Joking. Stalking. Listening. Caressing. Touching. Fucking. Wiping tears. Sharing laughs. Sharing knowledge. Sharing nonsense. Sharing life. Always. Even when he's miles and miles away. He still finds a way to do all that and then some more. Even if there is a big burden in her heart and she feels like crying and hiding from the world he'll somehow find a way in. In her heart or mind. Or both. Not obtrusively or blatantly. More like in a 'I'm here if you need me' way. Day or night. He is ALWAYS there for her. Never tires of it. His stamina in bed only matched by his emotional endurance superpowers. ''Maybe this is too tiring for you, maybe you can't stand it...'' he once texted her. ''Maybe it's overwhelming...'' ''Let me see if I understad this'', she asks. ''You embody a hero straight out of a romance novel and you're asking me if I don't likeall this attention?'' ''Yes. Quite a few grow tired of it.'' ''But I' m not like those 'quite a few' '', she says. Most people are foolish little children when it comes to love. They keep asking for new shining toys then discard them as soon as they have them lusting after a new toy. ''Not me'' ''I never tire of chocolate, love and you. ''I can have tons of chocolate, love and you and still ask for more''. ''That's MY superpower.'' ''Birds of a feather....''
She's making coffee. He's just arrived, smiling and out of breath from climbing all those flights of chairs. 'Hello foxy!''
Their welcoming kiss-and-hug ritual. He reaches for something from the shelf and she catches a whiff of his smell that beloved smell of his. He smells of comfort, love and sex of the particular flavor she likes best. She nuzzles up to his neck, a slight catch in her breath, drinking him in, instantly affected, intoxicated, swaying to and fro from pure pleasure, because she missed him so... Come here..'', he whispers in her ear. her waist cupped in his arms
''Make a wish'', she asks him. ''All right''. ''Now, let's blow the candles together.'' So they do. Blow the two birthday candles simultaneously. One for him, one for her. Each standing for a heartfelt longing. Because time flies. But loving moments stay in memory forever...
''Don't park the car this close to the edge'', she asks. ''I get dizzy..'' But she soon forgets about her fear of heights because their lovemaking is by far a much headier drug than heights...
Make a goddess of me
You moan, deep inside me as you give youself to me as you're giving me your true essence and you are free and you are your true self and you are my god.. I love your moans.. they are making a goddess of me...
''He scares me'', she says. ''How can a male duck scare you?'' he asks, laughing. ''He invades my personal space. Too close to my hands for comfort. And that malicious look in his eye? It scares the living shit outta me!'', she answers back. He doesn't seem to mind the duck demanding crumbs in a passive-aggressive manner. Animals love him, naturally gravitate towards him begging for food, play or petting. Attuned to them he is, because he knows how to love them back. But she knows his best petting is kept only for her!
''You were so hogging the blankets last night!'' he tells her over morning coffee. It's one of the rare, ever so rare occasions they can sleep together the whole night through. ''All of them? Hogging all three of them?'' she asks, laughing. ''All three of them'', he says, faking seriousness. ''You had one wrapped around you, another one you half-snatched away from me and the last one was all crumbled up behind you so that I couldn't take it without waking you up''. ''You 're making this up!'' she protests, playing along. ''I ain't never done such a thing!'' ''You did too, you did too, you did too! he is laughing that hearty laugh of his. ''You're a greedy little vixen''...
You love women, in a tender, totally protective way and they sense it and love you back, my love. Watching you interact with women live you just listening to them as they become bubbly and talkative like little girls in your presence, I sit there by your side, half smiling, watching your charisma unfolding in action. And I 'm one proud, proud woman because you picked me first before I picked you and you keep picking me up ever since.....
It was her trust that first did it for him, her trust that kept him going. She gave it with no strings attached. What exactly was the thing that he found so enticing about her? Pretty, ok, but there is never a shortage of even prettier ones in his life. She could see how there were many stares, many suggestive smiles, even overt invitations from women . She enjoys seeing him admired, wanted, lusted after. Of course. He is charming, intelligent, handsome. Has his way with women.
So what's about her that makes her special to his heart, makes him want to stay? “It’s your heart”, he told her once. ''You are open and honest, no pretences, nothing fake. ''
She knew what he meant was, it’s more than that she loves him. She loves him sweetly. With all her heart. No reserves, just pure, unadultered trust. Trusting his every motive, thought, word, action. Being held captive of his mind and heart as much as he is of hers. She loves him sweetly. And so does he...
Οur Poems of Love
Warmth creeping into my heart discovering a long, golden hair of mine tied around the gear lever of your car like some sort of talisman, on our second time together. My heart melting like hot chocolate fudge discovering my purple lace g-string of our first night together tucked up next to the driver's seat of your car 1000 days after that night. It is because our common story memories count for you as much as for me, it is because of this that I keep writing those stories, our Poems of Love...
It cant be real
''You can't be together, it's physically impossible, it's not real'' this one commented. ''Let them wonder how'' he said His very real, very warm, very tender hands going up and down her spine caressing her belly, warming up the place her ovaries nestle keeping them in perfect working order, working his personal magic on her body. Her very real orgasm warming her insides, as he nestles her head on his chest, pulling her close his hands still warming her back. ''Go home now baby, you are needed'', his caring always a warm blanket on her soul ''Just five more minutes'', she bargains, ''not yet''... ''Yes''she muses, walking home. ''It's not real, it cant be real. Something this heavenly must be a dream.'' A dream that goes on for years....
Uphill, uphill he's driving, uphill, uphill they go. Into the mist, towards a famous mountain tourist resort-village. The winding mountain road diasppearing into the clouds. Breathtaking view on both sides. ''Last weekend I was here with friends,'' he explains, ''and it was a really cool place, but somehow something was missing; you!'' They stop at a picturesque little village, traditional stone houses and all, and a picturesque little cafe overlooking the valley. Christmas decorations still on and heart-shaped cookies with their coffee. They are looking at eight puppies that look like like a wolf's pack venturing into the little square outside and holding hands and talking and basking at each other's presence. Because most beautiful things are never meant to be enjoyed solo...
Fifty Shades Of Boring
A friend gives her Fifty Shades of Gray to read in an ebook form to see for herself what this fuss is all about. She has high hopes, she likes reading since she was three and erotic is her kind of thing. She cant get even to read half the book, utterly totally uninspiringly boring... Then she knows and smiles and tells him so: ''It's your fault ya know. You destroyed all erotica books for me. All shades of grey are doomed to be as boring and grey as their name denotes compared to the lush of colors you have painted our lovemaking with...'' Fifty Shades of Boring Grey or my Real Lover's Rainbow of Love?
Beating The Odds
'The odds are against you two', a little she-devil whispered in his ear when they first met the serendipity of their bumping up on each other getting to know each other keeping in touch being too surreal and fairy-like to be considered either true or viable. 'The odds are against him', she told herself 'I will guard my heart, 'he's used to playing around, 'it won't come up to anything, 'it's just, you know, talking, 'there are no feelings involved, 'I won't risk my heart'. 'The odds are against you', friends told her 'too much competition, 'he's just having fun, 'you're just a new toy, soon to be discarded, 'too many difficulties to be overcome, 'it won't last, 'brace yourself for the truth, 'for the odds are against you'. 'The odds are against us', they thought, battling with too many things that could tear them apart too many things that could go wrong too many things that could but didn't... Then one day, in their little bird nest, their bodies and tongues and hearts and minds interlocked, their smells and dreams fused in a sweetly orchestrated melody, they knew without saying a word, they just knew. 'The odds are against us but we are beating the odds' Since day one they've been beating the odds to the astonishment and perhaps envy of many they keep going they keep loving against all the fucking odds. Because you see odds are just abstract, lifeless numbers whereas love is soul expressed love is pulsating, dripping, sweating, loving, life-affirming, life-creating joy-giving. Against all odds Life and Love always goes on....
Their never-ending love story their happily ever after of the eternal Now...
Love Can Heal All Wounds
she met him in glorious autumn
her favorite season
autumn is about love, dude
about snuggling and cuddling
a year gone
four seasons gone
still in love
still in tenderness
still in amazing body bliss
slow kisses and cinnamon aromas
touching and intimating secrets
happy driving and old 14th century churches
fluffy dogs and everyday life caring
relaxing massages and meaningful nicknames
staring deep into dark or blue eyes
heavenly smells and salty tears of gratitude
deep,husky whispers in the ear
strong arms (the way she likes it)
and very, very soft skin ( the way he loves it)
6 hungry puppies playing in the mountain mist
in front of the most picturesque cafe ever
and expensive gift perfumes
blond hair pulled playfully
and hot spring water cuddles
and hot sex dates
white, knitted grandma heirloom bedcovers
spread over pristine bed sheets
wine and whisky and cupcakes
cigarette smoke and hair extensions
dirty little text messages
and naughty games of love
sighs of ecstasy and giggles of merriment
words of adoration and prayers for strength
his and her teardrops combined in a rare shampagne of emotion
poems and stories and pictures and quotes
written and quoted, pregnant in meaning
his adoration, her admiration
his imparting strength to her,her loving beyond limits
Their private world....
Once you fall asleep -or pretend that you have, to see what I'm up to-, I cradle myself along your back and take in the smell of your skin. It never fails to give me a high. Lying there, I swear to myself that I wont sleep, that I'll just smell your skin and absorb your aura for hours. Because shared sleep is rare for us and I dont wonna lose even a moment. But my body fails me. Still full with our connection, my physical self blissfully relaxed I fall asleep before you do. Then , in my slumber, I feel your body coming closer, you observing me, cherishing me, silently watching over me, over us, but I'm already asleep and I cant snap out of it and so the awareness of your tenderness seeps deeply into my subconscious or traces of it surface unto into my mind the next morning. And I love you for it. More. For loving my soul deep.
Even deeper than our lovemaking
A person who is in love has wings on their feet, she knows that everyone knows that. Love heals everything, empowers everything She loves rituals . Rituals that have meaning only for her. Her personal brand of magic. She wants to celebrate an anniversary of love on a beautiful full moon week. She chooses roses, her favorite flower. Their love is a multisplendour thing, so multi-colored roses it is. She won't buy the rose, for love has nothing to do with buying-and-selling. It must be found, searched for,encountered or freely given. She walks all over the town, outskirts and all. Many abandoned homes with gardens full of rosebeds surviving as if by miracle. She has spotted them on her daily walks. Then there are friends' and relatives' gardens she 'll stop by, asking for rose blessings. She returns home with one red, red rose seven multi-colored ones in full bloom and a tender rose bud. All hand-picked, found or begged for. All so fragrant and beautiful, you'd think you're gonna faint just by smelling them. Each rose stands for an aspect of their love -Crimson-Red Rose for the physical, sexual part of their love -White Rose for the pure, unconditional, selfless love -Pink Rose for the romantic, tender, youthful, cherished love -Violet-purple Rose for spiritual communion of soul love (a rare thing that emits the headiest fragrance of them all) -Magenta Rose for passion, empowerment and freedom -Orange Rose for joy, exuberance, festivity and lightheartedness -Yellow Rose for deeper understanding, companionship, frendship and a small rose bud so that love is always new and budding She boils the petals of the red one mixes them with honey and some brandy makes herself a delicious rose tea puts the rest of the roses in a crystal bowl She drinks to their loving his and hers Blessed be the love that stands the test of time.....
Last day of their first-ever vacation. Torrential rain. flashing lightning. Tea-lights reflected in the mirrors. Slowly, sensually, lovingly enjoying his body and relishing every moment of it all night long.... Falling asleep on his stomach and waking up in his arms as her menstrual flow gushes forth reminding her of her goddess-like goddess-giving goddess -creating nature...
Why I'm Writing These Stories
''Do you Know Why I'm Writing These Stories? '' she tells him. Not to tell the world. (they don't understand anyway, they think it's too good to be true, or straight out of a romantic fantasy) Not to tell you ( you are right here with me . living it all, no need to remind you...) Not to tell me ( as if I could ever forget, ever....) I write our story for another reason: To immortalise a Work of Art in progress. All beautiful things in life are works of art. And works of art need to be imortalised. They deserve it. And the world needs them. That ugly, drab, twisted world of today needs as much Beauty and Love as it can possibly get. Too much shortage of it. ''My love, our Love spills anonymous blessings to this world...''
''If only I posted the juicy details on one of my posts...'' the mouth watering, body melting little details...'' ''Don't'', he says. ''Keep them just for us'' And I shall, baby. Keep them just for us. But if only....
Fuller than the one before
That moment when you told me that I have loved you more than any other woman ever and that no woman will love you that way because you only strike the jackpot once in your lifetime and that, if you re really lucky... I can live off those words for the rest of my life except I don' t need to, cause each time we are together you are feeding me new and fresh helpings of love... Feeling full and sleepy in your arms every single time fuller than the one before
Finally, a weekend just for us.
Glorious lovemaking afterglow. Icecream crepes for lunch in the glorious sunshine at that outdoor cafes. Eventually we get back and we somehow gravitate towards bed, meaning to just get warm and cozy under the bed covers, enjoy the close proximity of each other's body. Somehow in between basking in each other's smell and touch both drifting off into the most comfortable, easy nap. Long, unplanned glorious nap. Glorious. Like the rest of the weekend Almost dark when we wake up again. And.... time for you to catch up that plane. But the warmth of your arm around my tummy lingers on.. Love you. And so do you. Cause nothing else matters...
Morning light streaming in. Vacationing together.
She stretches herself on their bed. Contentedly. Well rested. Well slept. Well fucked. Well orgasmed. Well loved. She closes her eyes and stretches some more. He catches that expression of contentment on her face and desire surges in his chest all over again and he has to pull her close to him all over again. He has to be closer to her. In her. He adores her contentment. Especially when he is the reason behind it...
''I am mad at you'', she moans, as he enters her. ''I don't wonna cum for you''. ''I dont give a shit'', he whispers in her ear in that sexy voice of his as he's working her up to her climax. ''I wont be cuming'', she is protesting, feeling the familiar wave surging too dangerously inside her. Too closely , too late. ''I dont give a shit'', he repeats, breathing deeply into her ear, half kissing , half nuzzling her, steadily thrusting, inexorably getting her there driving her mad with pleasure. He knows her body, its rythm, its needs and wants. His arrogant confidence angers her but her body has taken control now shutting up her mind. Surging. Overflowing. Subsiding in his arms ''More, I want more'', she whispers. She is hungry. For him. It's been the longest they've ever been apart. Fuck distance. ''I want more. More''. And he gives her more. Always. Watching her closely. To gauge how much. And how. His tenderness translating in acts of passionate caring for her body. ''You only want one thing from me'', he tells her afterwards, an edge of bitterness in his voice. ''It's just sex you want from me...'' He's referring to her angrily demanding of him the weeks before: ''I need you here, regular doses of the physical you, regularly. I cant make this unless you come to me often enough. I need you in the physical often,not once in a while just talking over the phone or skyping wont do''. As they are lying there, in the afterglow of love shared, his words take her by surprise. Most of the time she won't let him speak because she talks too much and he listens patiently. Though it's his voice she's craving to hear. But at that moment, words fail her. How can she tell him what's in her heart? ''That's not true..'' is the only thing she can come up with, her eyes and heart full. She thought he knew, she thought she told him often enough how much she loved him, she thought he needed no reassurance. ''Write us a story'', he would tell her each time she wasnt feeling herself because of his absence. ''Write a story, cook a yummy meal of words of love and feed us both with it.'' Those were his words. Because all her stories are for him. Fore his eyes only, Even if hundreds read them its just the two of them, reliving it through her writings. So now she knows what she's gonna do. '' I' ll tell him in one of my stories'' I used to convince myself in the beginning that it would never work. Slowly I felt myself becoming a healthier person, and although it was happening gradually, his words of soothing encouragement were always running though my head. All the pain, betrayal, and abandonment that I have felt in thοse past years before he came seem to mean nothing anymore. He loves me more than I could ever possibly love myself. Is that possible? I don’t know what it is, but this man has kept me happier than I’ve ever been despite of how far he is. Not just by how he loves me, but by the way he is as a person. I’ve met many people I could connect, but none of it can compare to the way my soul, my heart, and my mind connects to his. Nothing compares to him, absolutely nothing. I want a lifetime of craziness with this man. I want to fall asleep in his arms, I want to be half asleep and feel his arms around me. I want to lay there and feel his soft lips gently pecking my forehead because that’s when I know I am the safest. This life altering kind of love. When I'm hungrily listening to his thoughts and I become intoxicated, it's my body that hungrily asks for his touch.
When he is giving me passionate physical love, my mind and my heart craves his. How can I separate one from the other? Why should I? I want to be your one life stand, my love. Every fucking day. For the rest of our days. Happy 1.627 days of Love Anniversary Love you
Moments... Him, ordering a second cup of hot chocolate with extra whipped cream on top for her on their first official date.... her, hungrily diving for his dick as soon as she first set eyes on it in all its erect glory.... Him, standing up in front of the fireplace feeding the log fire on that cabin flames dancing happily.... her, kicking off her high heel shoes and posing with him for the camera barefoot and all airs and graces... Both of them naked and languid and exhausted from too much lovemaking in that private hot spring bath chamber..... Him, telling her on the beach ' I've got a present for you' then uncurling his fingers and showing her a little shell... Her, telling him, half indignantly ''my energy is as strong as yours, even more so if I choose to!' and both of them bursting into hysterical laughter.... Him, giving her an intense orgasm by just caressing her hair.... Her, asking him silly questions expecting a serious answer as he was lying there snoring pretending to be half asleep.... Her, making him pose naked for her camera 'but not your head, just your hot body , please'... Him, stuffing her lace knickers in his jacket pocket like some kind of purple trophy after their first weekend together... Both of their faces lighting up like a firework-lit sky on a national holiday night as soon as they see each other after a few days of being apart... His sexy smile, warming up every nook and corner of her heart her eyes welling up with tears and him going 'I love them like this, they look star-ladden'.... Moments, yummy delicious moments adding up filling up their cup of joy reminding them what life is all about......
All the sad things they predicted for us
I remember every single thing other people have said to me about our love story. People full of good intentions, mostly. Trying to put some sense into me Their words burning in my memory. Sad thing, usually, doom predicting things. -''He 'll never come to you'' (you did) -''You won't like the real him as much ( I liked the real you exactly as much ) -He's leading you on ( you are turning me on, constantly) -''You'll be part of his 'harem' ( ''I'm part of his heart '', I tell them) -''He's making fun of you ( you are making love to me, in every imaginable way) -''It won't work because of the distance ( you are making it work, in spite of the distance) ''It's not real love, it's infatuation ( yes, it's not j u s t real love, it's spiritual love bliss) -''There are too many problems and difficulties for you to be properly together (all of which magical dissipated, one by one) -''It won't last'' (it's lasting, on and on and on) And the recurring one: ''Just you wait , until you actually move in together...'' Implying the magic will fade eventually. But actually, all the while, half fearing that not only it will, but it'll grow stronger and stronger and stronger. Proving them all wrong. Confusing them by defying their preconceptions. Lite it does already. It's alright No real malice intended. They meant no harm. It is pure rational thinking talking. All those people. Meaning no harm. Trying to protect. Me, you. Talking sense. Talking through their brains.
Meanwhile, WE were loving through our hearts.... Just our combined aura felt lights up space, baby. Baby of mine. We go on lighting space. We go on loving. Just because...
The Power of Love
Realising you are the first person I've been this close, soulwise. Realising this is so because you bring out the best in me the most vulnerable, open and sweet version of my self. Realising, through this, how transformative love is. How it makes me the best version of myself How it lifts me up and because it is a source of strength a source of solace, helping me lift other people up as well. How the power of love is stronger than anything else indeed..
help us always remember when we first met and the strong love and joy that grew between us Help us work that love into practical solutions so that it grows stronger every day and nothing can keep us apart We ask for hearts, words and deeds full of tenderness and compassion forgiveness and understanding, we ask for the miracle to keep unfolding Dear Lord, we put our beautiful love story into your hands..