That moment, deep in the moment, when you look into his eyes and he looks into yours, and he thrusts into the insides of you in that special way which makes you see stars, and then you really do because somehow he’s causing you to smile and laugh and cry out and explode like a firework on the inside, and you feel as though you’re being coated with a fine spray of soft gossamer silk with random sparkles of ecstasy, and it goes on and on and it happens again over and over until you float into that ethereal half-life where you’re partly there, right in the moment, and partly floating above and observing the intensified bliss and increased heat until, after what feels like a decade of wonderful, he reaches his apex and you both combust together and rain down in a silvery shimmer.
That.
Eloquent description of that moment, the meeting point of desire and consummation thereof; the stuff that passions are made of…
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Thank you very much and happy weekend ….💗💗💗
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Wow, you rock, Pinkie! That is one very long and beautiful sentence! 😉
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Awww, Dave! That’s such a lovely compliment. ❤
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And a lovely post by a lovely writer! Have a great day, Pinkie! xx
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I’m totally blushing. Thank you. ❤
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You’re so welcome! 🙂 Happy to make you blush.
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Mmmmmm! Perfect! 🙂
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Thanks, Jen! ❤
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Very welcome 🙂
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Yow! Great reading.
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Awww. Muscley! Thank you. ❤
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