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Intimacy

Intimacy

Her touch, her kiss. The smell of her hair. The softness of her lips. Her absolute and entrancing gaze. The way she turns her face away…  The moment she touches and twirls her hair… The moment her breath hastens, and eyes narrow and loses all fear. The moment she gasps and bites her bottom lip. The moment she weakens and collapses into his arms and becomes one with him… These are the moment’s absolute bliss. The moments in which all fear to miss.

These are the moment’s intimacy takes hold. These are the moments a man hearts beat. To be toyed with, to want to grasp her and make her his. It is in these moments of intimacy that we truly become whom we were meant to be.  That our life flashes before our eye as we are reborn…

Intimacy though is a fragile thing. For one wrong look, one bad whisper could ruin all that was meant to be. The right touch upon her flesh can hasten her sense until she quivers and moans. Yet too firm and it becomes a bruise, hurting her and dismissing you…

intimacy is a sacred thing. It is as delicate as a flower. If it is not tended and the candles are not lit, it will die. If inaction takes hold it will begin to try and wither. If love is not shown, it will wilt and refuse to come back to life. Intimacy is tender it is delicate and most of us have only one chance at it in our life.

Intimacy is like a fire. It burns deep within us all, growing as we feed the flames. It grows as we feel our lovers touch. It roars into a storm when fed logs of absolute lust… But if it grows too quick, it will burn too bright and sunder. If you’re too passionate and not careful, the foundations will decay into despair, never to be repaired… With too much lust and not enough tender, neither will know each other’s truest splendors.  With such negligence, the flames die down and all shadows of that intimacy will fade from its once beautiful ambiance…

Without the touch, the kiss… Without the flirtations bliss, intimacy will never be but an ember one wishes to grow…  It comes from the action of lust and develops out of the beginning of love. It comes when he touches her, and she succumbs to his complete desire. It comes with the passing of a feather and hits with the power of a raging storm. intimacy is the fuel of all desire… It is the power that we all wish for, and few can ever acquire…

It is not the same as a lustful state. Nor is it the honeymoons quick kiss. It is not the power of two lovers in bed. It is what occurs when one cares instead. They take it slow, they teach one another, and they let true love grow until they understand and become the other.

They take every careful step to as they go, but never to succumb to consuming canal’s woe until they know in complete. That the other was meant to be.

This is the growth of intimacy and within its bonds, a pleasure a sensation develops far beyond. It creates an unbreakable bond pleasure. It heals all wound, striking down the saddening state. It is the breath we begin to breathe. It is shared outside the lust of the bed. It is seen in the morning and is there when they lay down their heads. It cannot be faked, nor can it be forged. Rather it is that tender thing that must be truly procured.  For like trues loves to kiss, there is one chance, one hope to create this. One moment in which two become one and can be divided by none… This is intimacy, this is love… This is what we all wish for from above…

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