Caro vitrix. Efrén Rebolledo. |
Parts
The skies of your eyes became clouded, and as an agonizing dove, you demolished your face in my chest that dyed the blushes pink.
Nards and red lilys garden was your morbid and flagrant bosom, and upon succumbing, you opened beating the ivory doors of your fennels.
You gave me generous your ardent lips, your acute tongue which as fine dart was vibrating in the middle of your teeth.
And docile, gloomy, as a weak leaf that groans when the whirlwind passes, you groaned by delight and by grief.
More polished than the transparent marble, whiteer than the white fleeces, two feminine bodies are knotted in a sculptural and ardent group.
Zebra's legs, serpent's forshortenings, categorical curves, Columbian bosoms, a fire the purple lips, and the two hairs a torrent.
In the live combat, the nipples that are assailed, they seemed two pythons joined in erotic pendencies.
and in the middle of the linked thighs, two inviolated cocoon roses distil and confuse their essences.
You offer yourself voluptous and careless, and I feel that your your sovereign body intact snow of distant outcrop, silky east sharp pearl.
Eburnian arms, never transparent, the aromatic bust I kiss conceited, and from your short and satiny hand caresses slowly drain.
Your bosom swollens as a milky wave, the white springy stole stoat does not match your thighs' whiteness,
while your abdomen to which I incline my lip, is a murky thickness lush, a paradise in a linen moor.
Living chained is their fate, they love each other with a longing that doesn't kill possession, and the loop that ties them challenges the absence and the death.
Tristam is like the bronze, obscure and strong, he seeks the polished silver lag, Isolde sucks the scarlet chalice that lives in a crisp essences scrub.
Because they date in secret, adultery gives a subtle and criminal bad habit to their passion that grows-up in the mystery.
And tormented by a scorching anxiety, drink and drink with sweet-toothed lip without quenching the thirst that devours them.
like two butterflies are their light feet, and throwing the veil that shields her, she appears magnificent and nude to the brilliancy of the reds reverberations.
On her dark face shine streams of strange gems, her small mouth opens, and lavish her crude fragrance fresh flowers and rare censers.
Still wishful and sweaty because of the sensual dance, the opened rose of her virginity offers to the tetrarch, and envisaging the livid yokanan trophy, the nubile body bends shaked of horror and desire.
Your murky and bulk curls roll over your candid forms as a river, and I scatter in its crisp and gloomy stream the lit roses of my kisses.
While I clear the thick rings, I feel the mild and cold fret brush of your hand, and a long shiver travels across me and it penetrates until the bones.
Your chaotic and unsociable eyes gleam when they listen the sigh that leaves tearing my gizzard,
and while I agonize, you, thirsty, simulate a black and tenacious vampire sustained from my ardent blood.
It's in vain that he dwells in the desert the gaunt and sullen cenobite, because it has not been calmed the infinite anxiety of loving neither the appetite has died.
From the obscure hood arises an uncertain profile that has margarita whiteness, a flesh-colored and exquisite mouth, a fragrant parting as an orchard.
Before the white and cheerful appearance, his meat shaken with ardors feverish under the worsted-yarn cassock,
and thinks with the aching soul, that instead of a birds and flowers paradise, life is an immense moor.
Saturated with biblical fragrance your hairs are lowered in cluster of black curls, and with sweet caress in my mouth your fire mouth serves.
Your bosoms erect with untamed fragrance that with slow hand I oppress, and your soft body, white, I oppress, it is reflected in the room moons.
In the softness of your rich bed, breaking the horrid tyranny of pain and death chest exults,
and the lethal nuisance and the gloomy hopelessness and the ferocious spite melt your ambrosia himen.
The crepe of the deepest shade wraps up my lucky bed, and tighting on your forms close to me by passion you shake moribund.
Your balsamic hair surrounds your delicate face irises, and when floating through my fingers unbraided from more cassock the thalamus floods.
The soul vibrates in my beating hand upon feeling your lush hair, it ploughs silky aroma seas.
it seeks hide delight gardens, and covering the flowers and the apples my caresses silently snow.
As a spectral visne, the white moon in the transparent space rails, and in the thick foliage, Filomela starts melliflous notes from her maw.
Shines in the dark background of the white your steamy fabric hairdresser, and seeps through the satin leaves or in the clears the snowy light stems.
After traveling through the cold marble of your polished complexion, I touch a rose that opens wet of dew:
all silences, and upon feeling the pleasing heat of your caresses, my ardent virility stands up as a cat.
Under eyelash's dark net its pupilar of desire shines upon seeing the brilliance arabic croup and the white back that tarnishes snow.
Sex assails with the erect cane just as if it excelled in a tournament, and with happy hand roasts the trophy of the odoriferous and chestnut plait.
Lutecia's handsome soldier laughs of his victories, he appreciates more to have opened a track in the love,
and elegant, magnificent, fidgety, as a steed shakes when it feels the pressure of his alabaster weight.
Jidé, I clamour, and your idolizeed form does not come to end my agony; Jidé, I appeal, during the gloomy night and when dawn breaks.
My tortured meat wishes you, Jidé, Jidé, and I remember with insistence freshnesses of your ambrosia arms and essences of your grenade mouth.
Come to placate my chest anxieties, Jidé, Jidé, without you ti as a damned I struggle in the fire of my bed;
Jidé, quench my thirst, tender friend, Jidé, Jidé, Jidé, and the vain yell rips the murky and eternal night.
Most recent revision: April 27, 2002. |