The wind gently caresses the skin while bringing smells that bring the mind back to where we were born. The nostrils open to receive them, the lips open like a flower to receive liquid life-giving drops.
Here is the shiver that runs through the body that arches the back, pushes the pelvis forward giving way to the desire for hospitality. A smile illuminates the moment as the wave thickens and prepares, bringing billows behind her, like a court obsequious bowing before the grandeur of the perfect lover.
He sings about himself, tells and tells himself, of stillness and silent waiting, like fierce screams and infinite power.
Of him fear and love, we experience sensation simultaneously.
In him we find peace if not fear. But he always welcomes us as a father, friend, lover.
Here it is now, it arrives almost slowing down the race in the moment that precedes the end of the race, as if to anticipate infinite moments of passion before the explosion.
She throws her head back, letting her hair float in her lover’s breath. He hears the roar that accompanies his becoming, and here, arriving at the foot of the thalamus, he calms his strength, letting the great mass be reduced to myriads of thin tongues which, dragging slowly, reach his feet and lap his legs, up, towards the white and perfect thighs, slowly creeping up to touch her open flower to welcome them. Then they shyly withdraw, brushing it slowly like wanting to leave a trace or request, desire.
The mouth opens slowly to let out a sigh and the eyes close to imagine as if the infinity were not enough to describe the moment.
He feels the court of the lover breaking at the foot of the thalamus as a chorus of envy and respect. Leaving behind the call to the next moment.
And he, as if to hear that call, retreating, he still swells and prepares new attack, powerful and very sweet, made of strong and delicate emotions.
As if the big and strong hand stopped to caress the head of a little girl. Here he comes back and looks again for that intimate and totalizing contact that seems to leave no room for other thought.
And she still welcomes him feeling the deepest essence, listening to her scream and her whisper, letting that fresh wind pass over her limbs preparing her for the lover’s caress.
Again and again, but tired, he frees his forced soul into his woman, letting her hover inside and outside her soul. Time is relative to the moment and seems to stop at the perfect moment.
She also moans like him letting her sighs feed the air and give strength to the wind itself.
Here the moment has arrived, slowly as a wave that breaks into his mind and submerges everything, drowns his being in one with his lover.
The body abandons itself to the last caress as he slowly slips away again, leaving his taste on the intact, respected, fulfilled skin …
She rises slowly from the rock, her gaze goes where he has withdrawn into his infinite motion, he the perfect lover, the father of every child, an unconscious god among mortals. He who inspires us with his strength and fascinates us. He who welcomes us gently into his waters.
And she slowly dips her hands and greets him with a last caress.