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In the quietude of my room, your words cascade through the silence, a tender
touch upon the canvas of my mind. Your voice, a distant melody, stirs the
embers of a latent fire within me, kindling a warmth that spreads like the
first blush of dawn.
Your whispers of intent, they dance upon my skin, a choreography of promised
caresses. The mere thought of your lips tracing the contours of my thighs sends
tremors through my being, a quiver of anticipation that leaves me breathless.
With each confession of your longing, I find myself caught in the rapture of
your envisioned embrace. My lips, they tingle with the ghost of your kiss, a
sensation so potent, I can’t help but capture it between my teeth, savoring the
bittersweet tang of yearning.
The notion of your desire, mirrored in mine, paints a portrait of shared
hunger. As you speak of adoration, my body resonates with every word, a
symphony of silent replies. I am awash in the tide of our mutual craving, each
wave a crescendo that crashes over me, leaving me drenched in the essence of
you.
Even in the expanse that divides us, your ardor reaches across the void, a
bridge built of fervent vows and whispered dreams. You are the artist, and I,
the willing canvas, eager for the stroke of your attention, the color of your
passion.
And as you paint me with the brush of your desire, I am transformed, a
masterpiece of longing and fulfillment. The crescendo builds, a harmony of
shared ecstasy, until my voice escapes in a symphony of your name.
But then, the illusion fades, and I am left in the quiet once more, your presence a lingering whisper in the stillness. My eyes open to the reality that you were never here, yet in my heart, you never truly left.
By: notesformysoulmate
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