Sea of ​​silences

Sometimes, on those nights covered by the dim light of a naked bulb, I feel that my room is an island in a sea of ​​silences, it is when this desire comes from you; I remember then your daring games and I think of the images that your words drew at the bottom of my ears. Those phrases of crude confessions descended through my skin without shortcuts inflating the tip of my veins along their path. Now those memories swarm hidden in my mind, are those furtive encounters where I enjoyed your excitement and the secret plot of lust that warmed our burning bodies.

I remember the night I sat on the edge of your bed and asked you to dance for me. Soon the mischievousness and fun was giving way to your best performance, your hips descended with learned cadence while your arms rose simulating caresses in the wind. You imitated throwing a hat and little by little you let out your nakedness from an ocher and light dress; You looked like a chrysalis emerging with its lustful dance from the chalice of a splendid flower in the middle of the day, thus showing its liberated body, chiseled on purpose for a virgin one thousand times subdued by the exquisite whims of a mischievous eros ...

I still feel the softness of your hairy pubis and even my fingers keep the sensation left by the textures of those twisted hairs and that dredging commissure descending. On the pale silk of your legs my caresses advanced between the waters with the care of an expert sailor resisting the bravery of the wind so as not to drown so soon in the darkest inlet of you inside, in the nascent crack of your libido, thus delaying the onslaught end of a whirlpool deep in the heat of a burning red sea and grown ...


Copyright of the author
Lugh Landrus
Venezuela
October 2016