AbriLonnel

I went alone like a tunnel. The birds fled from me and the night entered its powerful invasion into me. To survive me I forged you like a weapon, like an arrow in my bow, like a stone in my sling.

You will see me calm but I would like you to touch me with one hand and get off with the other while you ask me, do you want more? And you accelerate your movements little by little

Come, I invite you to enter my life, I want to hear the soft melody of your voice in my room.. Your sighs in my bed. let me turn off these cravings in your body, I want to ecstatic with your nakedness; drink from your source.. Eat from your table.. I want my hands to travel every part of your skin, that my kisses and caresses fill; I want to awaken the desire that dwells in you.. Come, I invite you into my life, I want to be the one who causes you pleasure, the one who starts sighs.. The one who saves your anxious woman

I want to be, the reason for your smile, the backwater in storm, clarity at dark night, the breakdown of your fantasies. I want to be, your secret admirer, the one that in the heat of the day, forms just to look at you and at night he satiates your fantasies. I want to be, the one who writes poems to your lips and your mouth, your vehemente longing, to the humidity of your skin. I want to be, your placid tiredness, who wakes up your desires and wet your wishes, the furtive lover. your faithful partner.

Undress me, get me the night in the eye, today I want to be blind, today I want to be deaf, I want to see you with my hands I want you to be for me alone, drink from your thighs a breath of life and wet everything, and wet everything. You seduce me, you abduct me in waste, in this deployment of obscene miracles, in which my ray cloves like a lecvia Zeus, like a face without a face, looking for your amparo, to kiss your lips and wet everything, and wet everything. Enjoy me, I know my stigma of fire, the flower of my whims, the sea of my instincts, where my fugitive magma flows, breaks and I brush and come out and I flood your garden, your maze, where I get lost and hide to turn on you and wet everything, and wet everything

The afternoon was goodbye, and you were not; I was arrival, you were welcomed, I was naked, you were dressed in your glory of breasts and hips. And I stayed with you. The palm trees swayed in the air; Shaken, the water in the reservoir collected, was a blue breaking of glass, and the thicket was a green silence; Inside, my fence around your waist, anaconda tightening the rings. And then, in a voluptuous explosion, a cosmic, foaming flood, and a crumbling of castles

bare my eyelids and cheeks, with kisses the corner awaits you: ajar the neck i raise to be approached; through your lips slowly run over my bare shoulders and now that i open my eyes, look at me and we'll talk

Just imagining that your mouth can join mine, I feel that a secret anguish s me, and I torment myself with a longing for tenderness. My soul becomes all ears; My body becomes all flame and I stir with burning loves, while my whole spirit calls you. And then I do not understand, in madness, this dream of love to which I surrender; If pure blood runs in my veins, or if instead of blood fire runs.

I am the bad girl in the story, the one who fornicated with three men and cuckolded her husband. I am the woman who deceived him daily for a miserable plate of lentils, the one who slowly took away his clothing of kindness until he turned it into a black and sterile stone, I am the woman who castrated him with infinite gestures of tenderness and false moans in bed. I am the bad girl in the story.

Time has passed and you return to my memory. Your car climbing towards the mountains, Cream-Rika, remember? Turning to the right, all those motels. So it was us; not you, not me. Love me, enjoy me, love me, we said. Who are you taking nowwith you between your legs, who screams and shatters the mirrors where we repeated ourselves as beastly and sweetwhat other womb receives your honey, peruvianansay what a frivolous whore, what a sordid hypocrite from lima, what a married woman careful of the cuckold. Son of a bitch, do you do it? But don't, never, with anyone, go back to room 35 with anyone.. May you die forever, may you rot if you return. Once I said no there, rememberthen I said wherever you want. You watched me like an entomologist, you were a lascivious doctor examining a lovestruck girl: don't talk, you are a doll, a body without will, and you touched me testing me and I was one of those peaches that can be opened with your hand. A peach, you said behind my back, in the afternoon light, gently separating my flesh, discovering what I don't even know, my darkest area, the one that keeps that atrocious, obscene caress of yours that I won't forget.. Swear it: You don't have to go back to that bed with anyone.. You have denied me your body, the one that I liked to look impudent and erect coming to me, yours that was mine. Grant me this then: Go somewhere else and do your shit.. Or go back to your room. 35. Time has passed, there are only memories and amaryllis can only put together words. It's you and me, now there's no more us. One and one, two alone: me and that shit that you are and I long for, unlucky man..

I let myself be touched by you in the streets in front of everyone, half-naked, you oppress some infinite part of my orgasm and once again your sharp sex is here opening my lips.