VeroHands

From the dark side of your skin you light me up. Let me be the wolf Shadow of thirst and dog and hunger that enters the night of your body with wet, wobbly steps through your uncertain forest Your smell of sea guides me to your waves To touch the rising moon of your smile. Let me know with tongue even the deepest darkness, the quietest, and invoke with repeated movements, rituals like howls, the full moon of your body, that carries me to you as if it were me, in your hands, water that you turn into a lit tide.

Let me scatter apples on your sex mango nectars strawberry flesh; your body is all fruit. I embrace you and the tangerines run; I kiss you and all the grapes drop the hidden wine of their heart on my mouth. My tongue feels in your arms the sweet juice of oranges and in your legs the pomegranate hides its inciting seeds. Let me reap the water fruits that sweat in your pores: my man of lemons and peaches, give me to drink sources of peaches and bananas bunches of cherries. Your body is the lost paradise from which no god can ever drive me out..

You come opening the air to your step. There is a deep silence that trembles in announcement of what will consume us. And the world trembles before a single certainty Your lips on fire will say words of love that will immolate the stillness of my body.

From your mouth I received the pleasure in its entirety. She seduced me without insisting, I just let myself be carried away Your lips kissed everything that was within their reach passing through my ear, abdomen and what. barbarie. I enjoy the wide dimension of your silent mouth and at the time of friction, no one closes it, nothing calms it, I am excited by your anxiety to drink my lubricant, your craving captivates me, as well as your legs to. air. To grab you from anywhere, to be sovereign in your skin as you bite me, bite you too, my hands on your hips should always be, I inside your bowels, screaming until it's over.

I am the one who sometimes writes about reality or the. fiction, the one who knows when a caress is true or pure. imagination. That individual who plays with his mind, that is. rebels, the one who loves you from anonymity or with audience that one who defeats any resistance with humility, the one who transforms your everyday world into one. original. I am the one who provokes you, the one who seeks you and is passionate, the one who loses his temper for a woman who lo. impressive. I, the writer who expresses his madness in poems, the one who puts all the fire in each of his. letters the being that fits in your thoughts, that embraces. your silhouette. I'm the one who sometimes writes.

For me, the ideal man is someone who respects me, listens to me and makes me feel safe. I like him to have a sense of humour, to be ambitious, but also humble. I value that he has goals, that he is affectionate, and that he knows how to communicate well. It doesn’t have to be perfect, but it has to be authentic, attentive and supportive of my dreams. Someone with whom I can laugh, grow and share real moments.

the best you will find you will see in me, I will take you to the limits you never thought to reach, eroticism and seduction in a woman room, we will be the perfect complement, do not be fooled by my appearance, do not know only that I am behind a young woman full of pleasure to please you