Lust. Desire. Eroticism. Fantasy. Everything.

Where has the lust gone? Where is the... “Sell your soul for her?” Why should any one of us woman? Yes, it's a question. A challenge. Many of the angels of God fell because of Earthly women. The woman's warmth and grip. Her stranglehold on their angelic heart. It's written that the angels laid with God's female creation.



Imagine for a moment an angel of God slowly descending to Earth. He turns his head and there is the human woman. He has expected to awe her with his presence but he struggles to keep his knees strong, his gaze royal. The very angels of God were laid to ruin .Now we mortals are left to receive the woman's warm and inviting stare. Gaze upon her curves. Drink in her haunting, alluring magic. “Behind me Satan!” We say to no avail.
I slightly chuckle as I think of The Creator changing his likeness so “she can bear offspring.” He gazes upon His creation and gets a boner.



As content as we can imagine ourselves alone, the woman with the keys has our heart, our very soul. And yet she also wields the power of the millstone. Around my neck and send me to the watery depths less I am lost to eternity because of your wretchedness.. As strong as I boast I have no longer need to breath without her shared passion. What is fact? What is fiction? Everyone has their own vision of an adventure. Time....space. To be alone, with all of this wonder around us is a punishment of incalculable proportions. A moment of real passion. A touch of her willing lips to mine. I gaze upon the curve of her back. Her silken hair slowly cascading through my fingers. Then her scent lightly enters me. A faint mist upon the Moors. Then without warning or thought it heats me. A stoked furnace inside that has no intention of cooling. Passion unleashed and given room to run like the alpha wolf in it's prime. A dynamo unleashed. I'm on fire and at first it burns without pain. I must have more. I try to think but I'm on fire. I haven't felt this way since I was overly intoxicated and the music was pounding.



Reality is relentless in it's attempts to reach me. To restrain my new found way. But I mutter, “Nay shall I yield to reality!” I embrace my new found dimension and revel in this fleeting moment of time. Of space. Wherever she has gone. Wherever she is. It has been but a moment. Sand falls through our hands as if the passage of time means something. It does not. I did not say it but it truly is like tears lost in the rain.
And I say, "We are us and we are so very few."

I'll have what he's having.

Cheers,
Mazo.

Cheers it is.

I'll gladly partake in that cognitive illusion mate..

someone once told me that even the most beautiful woman in the world has someone who is tired of doing her...

seeing her from afar will keep your blood rushing....catching her..well maybe thats the cure for what you are feeling

Danaë by Gustav Klimt - as Zeus comes down to make love to her in a shower of Gold

http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nSCmbQu4n4...limt.danae.jpg

Where has the lust gone? Originally Posted by Marcus Aurelius

Gone? Never gone. You need only find a woman worth selling your soul for. The passionate prose of the past were more in Love with Love then the woman they wrote about.

There are so many beautiful words of Gods and Angels falling prey to woman's Siren song, enough to fill oceans and flood valleys. Find one that can capture the divinity of passion wordlessly, eyes burning like the heavens, with all the intricacy of infinity, mouths melting together, breath passing between both lips. Time evaporating off their sweat.

Why ever be alone? Always she hides somewhere, holding out the apple.
Become a theif - steal your pockets of eternity when no one is looking.

Burn, Angus Mac Og

There is a man I know.
We have a mutual friend.
There has always been some chemistry between us and I am extraordinarily attracted to him.
Our jobs would collide in the ugliest of ways though so we contain ourselves..somewhat.
Three years ago, there was a group of us out together. He was one as was I. He rarely drinks but on this occasion he had a couple and he let his guard down a little. Suddenly he grabbed and kissed me..which I will admit is something I had daydreamed about. The intensity was just as I had expected. I remember telling him what a good kisser he was. He blushed and said I was just saying that. I was not. It was suddenly clear though that no-one had said anything like that to him a long time, if ever. You can feel that in the way someone's body responds to you. He tried to pull away but I wouldn't allow it. I could feel his body fighting between wanting to yield and wanting to restrain himself. It would have been so easy to pull him in my direction. I spent an entire night just kisisng this man and to this day I don't know how I restrained myself from pushing, begging or pleading for more. In the back of my mind the word "anti-climax" hovered, knowing that even if any further intimacy we shared was off the charts...it's a moment in time you can never re-capture. The first time. This way, what we have is the difference between a physical orgasm and multiple mental orgasms....but I am so tempted. Sorely. It's full of eroticism, desire, lust and fantasy. It's a balancing act of wanting him and wanting these highly charged feelings to be more than past moments that linger in the corners of my mind more. I will probably succumb at some point...and regret it.

I will probably succumb at some point...and regret it. Originally Posted by Camille

Advice recently given me:

We regret the actions we did not take longer then we regret the actions we did take.

Advice recently given me:

We regret the actions we did not take longer then we regret the actions we did take. Originally Posted by Lauren Summerhill

Generally, I absolutely and fully agree with and embrace this premise Lauren...but I hesitate here.

C x

Down Down I say. Damn this firm throbbing between my loins that impedes my sober walk. The mere hint of a woman and it rises to meet the possibilities of exploration of moist and dark. Can I find relief from this torment of pleasure and retire again in softness, smoke and deep slumber.

Me