Aetna Dmo V/s Aetna Ppo

Yet another week begins ... Another week done in days when I am alone ... Another week I'm trying to populate dreams you inspire me, thinking of your body against mine ... I try to dress up your envy me with caresses, gestures that I do not know you ... I try to imagine your hands, softness, shape ... I invented both firm and gentle, able to touch the curve of a breast or grabbing my hair to force my camber ... I imagine them, forming a cross on each of my breasts ...

J'invente taste in your mouth, the smell of your skin ... The smell in the hollow of the neck, where I want to put my lips ... The smell of armpits, pungent, spicy, male ... That in middle of your thighs, that of your sex, I filled my nostrils ... The smell in the palm of your kidneys ...

Moreover, the hollow of your back ... I invented it, too ... I imagine them kissing and language file ... I guess my hands that attract you to me, that you fills me stronger, far away ... I imagine moving to the rhythm of the dance that you impose on your kidneys, your pool ... This wave is different for every man ... I dream of yours ... Sometimes slow, mesmerizing, languid ... Sometimes faster, more violent, more intense ...

Your pleasure gushing, I also invented. The taste of your cum in my mouth, I'd share a kiss with you, if you wanted ... The heat of the jets on my face, my chest ... The smell of your cum on my skin ...

And the sound of your voice in the hollow of my ear ... I am not making your voice as I know, but I invent your own words ... Invent the sound of your pleasure, your gasp, your cry ...

I would invent ...

Old Ladies And Girdles

Wrinkles paper

A room lit by candlelight. On the big bed, a fluffy duvet and sheets. Invalid. Defeated. Covering all this, the scattered papers. Some hung by my words of love, by my desire for him ... The smell of burning candles. The discrete scent of paper ...

And amid this island cotton and paper, our bodies tangled. And the sound of his breath, mine, and the paper being crumpled ...

Milena Velba White Sweater

Hungry Like the Wolf

sun was beautiful, but it does not matter.

The restaurant was lovely, the food delicious. But that, too, who cares!

My chest was exquisitely molded in a push up bra just enough and covered with a pretty camisole. But again, this is not the important details. Finally ... Maybe a little ...

No, this scene would be played on a rainy day in a bus shelter and I wore the most awful of t-shirts she would not have been less than perfect ... All that, it was the decor ...

The setting, since at a certain point, everything froze. I think even the decor has gone. We both stopped talking to dive into the eyes of another ... There was more than your eyes in mine ... The second that we knew. The desire was there between us ... Invisible, yet palpable ... I saw at the bottom of your blue eyes, that you longed to touch me ... And I, at this precise moment, I knew it was no longer anything to resist. You had won, I want you ...

And you knew that behind that impassive face - Well, maybe I blushed a little ... - Inside, it was the storm ... I have fallen off more quickly. You saw in my eyes, that you should only have to ask ... You knew at that moment ... And your lips are stretched into a smile ... Smile of a wolf who knows he will only bite me ...