bunyaminkoc

Misty kisses, made of a gentle moist rapture's desire, wherein is a fantasy's erotica found Caresses of touch sought, their rhythm an eternal echo of angels' whispered sighing A gentle accented song softly mixed with a rebounding beat of my hidden soul, A symphony choreographed by the night's mistress's conducting, Gentle moonlit rays entice the tides of desire, beckoning, releasing, a passion longed for, A passion almost found, yet never touched, never brought to completion A heart yearns for the touch of a lover dreamed of in the shadowed realms of my spirit Oh that he would come. Then, as a cottony night's breeze comes over me in a slumb