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Night Swan

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Desire

The Eiffel Tower is beautiful tonight. Majestic. "But good god, what I'm there. " Mailed before the window of this sumptuous suite in Paris, she wonders what led her to accept this appointment. With this stranger whom she obviously knows nothing. Not even his face. Just a word "Hotel Bellevue - Friday 22h". A word embedded in the petals of red roses with a huge bouquet had filed a deliveryman on his desk ago 3 days. He knew where she worked, her name. Shit. Any woman would have kept the flowers, shrug and throw the word. Not her. She, whose life was so boring the 1000 times fantasize about a scenario like that. She, whose husband loving but often absent, leaving no desire in this body who wanted nothing more than vibrate. Her forties blossomed, the children become teen who finally left him time for her. It. Sensual. Alone. She decided to go. His body demanded it. His intuition guide. She needed it. Need to forget the dreary day to let go. Not accepted.
hundred times she almost quit. A hundred times she sought what she would wear. Dust off her little lace sets that did little more than fantasize her drawers. A hundred times she imagined what would happen. A mixture of excitement, apprehension. She should have taken her legs around his neck. No. Absolutely not. Life is too short.
the day, she left her children alone without explanation. Her husband was abroad. Not to change. She took the subway without thinking. Stopped dead in the lobby, took a deep breath and recovered the key. Without looking. The silence of the hotel clashed with the chaos that reigned in her. His heart pierced his chest and she almost sinking when she came to the door.
a deep breath and opened it. Dozens of candles were dancing in this beautiful suite with elegant fragrances. The flickering shadows made a delicious all appear lingerie. An invisible force him to give up to turn around. Lace is red. A man of taste. At its size. She did not ask any question. Was changed and when she had finished, she slipped over the pretty silk dressing gown to match. She went to the window and began to doubt.
Diving in thought, she did not hear the door open. But gradually she heard the muffled footsteps crushing the thick carpet of the room. She did not budge. As paralyzed. A black silk scarf appeared before his eyes. She did not budge. Excited. The darkness grew upon her and she did nothing to prevent it. She felt a breath Hot stroking his neck before a gentle kiss was a thrill to go small of her back. Impressive and soft hands rested on her shoulders and she let herself go to the greed of his kisses. She would yield to this man. His mind was going to leave, his body would not live for the moment.
The night was one of the finest of its existence. Never remove the blindfold, her skin never knew no respite to the tenderness and passion kisses of her executioner. The fun never stopped irradiating each part of his body awoke from hibernation forced under the delicate hands of his torturer. She felt that she had never felt. Abandoning its being opened to a multitude of new sensations. Darkness extolled his other senses. She had no more idea of where she was, who she was, what time it was. She was hovering on a cloud made of enjoyment of hugs, kisses, bodies entwined, grabbed, hugged. What she felt she gushed in a fire she thought extinct. Worse. She rediscovered the same time that this man devoted himself to look after her. She did not invent any guilt because she felt reborn in the flames of desire burning incandescent. Life returned in it.
A sweet sleep came over her in a last gasp of pleasure that left her lifeless until sunrise.
The first rays bathed her face with a gentle heat, almost unreal. It was wonderful. Released as a burden. She removed the blindfold and silk began to be a time to ambient light. She turned to him who was still asleep. This lover. Wonderful. A tear began to slide down his cheek. It was her husband.

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What a circus! In time for me

There are places marked by a magic that mesmerizes us and deprives us of the world in which we live. There are places where time seems to stand still leaving us with the beauty of an ancient heritage. Moments so special flavors blend of old dust, incense, fantasy, poetry flavors. These moments are unique, we are back to childhood. This childhood that saw my daughter installed on my knees looking with eyes wide with curiosity these tigers that weird guy in costume fun to growl before they finally decide to jump through the circle of fire. I want to forget everything I've ever seen to do the same. Discover. Amaze me. Laugh. They are funny these bushy poodles that jump, turn, walk on two legs when coming to claim their due croquettes, just rewards for a job that has the dog. Two, three, four, five and six bowling juggling flying and circling over the head of a juggler catching and catching, running and raising. Here is one that falls. This plague, resumes, and we applaud successful. Two, three, four, five and six white rings that do not end up flying in his hands that seem even more touching. Just turn the straw hats that come and go alone. Like boomerangs. Like magic. It is this lovely princess. But how does she do? She walks, runs and jumps on a wire? But how does it not to fall? His suit shines on this muscular body that defies the tips of her weightless leather shoes. He has only one wheel bicycle. I know one who even with 4 can not even move. Acrobats leaping, leaping camels, cows ruminating and now grace personified who comes to hang over our heads. Sequence thrill. Simple strings hold it. She sways, falls. A strength of the hands, feet or neck makes up for it, plays with us. Our eyes are dazed, our mouth is blissful. Blissful admiration and awe. She is beautiful and makes us afraid with their bizarre games to 7 meters above the ground. The public was won. The clowns arrive. By dint of boxing gloves, children burst out laughing, take part in these games cabotins acrobats. The show comes to an end. Time will be able to resume his journey. My daughter cries and wants more. We will come back. We take your little sister to the circus. This authentic circus. Simple. Nicely Belle Epoque decor. Intimate. The canvas is old, dusty chandeliers. Garlands and yellow spiders have always been their seats on the balconies. Yet the big plays with the wind blowing furiously. Any crack, any balance but nothing takes away the magic of this place. The brilliant light of these artists for generations live only for the pleasure of us to share a unique moment. Exciting. The costumes are sometimes faded, the numbers insecure, poorly poodles moons, tigers recalcitrant slippery bowling but our childhood is intact. They come in a circus for the first time at age 3 (almost 4, dad). As my daughter. Or 37. Like me.

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Rash After Waxing Legs

We still believe that it happens to others. As if the inevitable, during his journey, never crosses our path. And do not ever cross it. We feel safe in a protective bubble, a nest that seems to achieve nothing, disturbing. Through the window we look at the lives of others affected by luck, bad luck or just by life. We continue our way, year after year, oblivious or naive. Almost blind. Yet one day the unthinkable happens. It seemed inconceivable to us, just point the tip of his nose, one morning, obviously when we least expected it. Anyway, we do expect point. What was one thing reserved to others becomes our daily lives. Then comes the first surprise and then the obvious. Why would I escape? I am a man like any other after all. Neither worse nor better. Until now I had been spared. Now I have to live with. With them. The ones who will probably become more numerous. What matters after all. Some live very well with. Long. Assume and live. Even seems that some women love it. I was 37 years and with them, my first gray hairs.

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Cuddle morning

Cuddle morning. A steamy night of sleep, we find ourselves. Tightens. Pleasure shared a closeness that looks hot. Mixture of the senses, an outpouring of feelings. Beings in the boil. We look at, observed, he smiled. Clumsy. All eyes are complicit. We caught, catches up. Magma moving flesh that graze, touch, slip. Against the glass wet, slipping a hand unable to hold onto. The scents intertwine in a moist heat. The mouths dry. The breaths are short. Thoughts are focused on the present moment. An eternal moment, time seems to stand still. The mind wanders. Is lost. Beings agree, become one. It seeks the air. Dance carnal passion. Haunting rocking. It would be lighter, almost ethereal. The body wants to wait, untenable. He wants to free himself from the vise grip of this morning. The goal is getting closer. The time has come to orgasm. Uncontrollable. A long-awaited pleasure over the minute that you invaded. Ineluctably. Air rushes, fills my lungs. The pleasure overwhelms me like a wave of broken waves. My body trembles. My feet finally touch the ground. I go down. Leaves the bed of steel and leave behind me this whore. This whore. This fucking strike.

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The postcard will understand that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PS 1: Mickey, however, if you read my blog, so I have no doubt you're

am recognized, I know that does not know what to answer you ...

Sorry ...

PS 2: I had doubts about the matter, and it is confirmed,

mind of the male is rather unfathomable, inscrutable, if not twisted ... True

what, what motivation drives someone to recontact

someone he has not seen for a century, and while their last

exchange was rather heated? He feels guilty? He is so desperate he tries

recontact all its address book? Or actually, it was

madly in love with me but I preferred to take the mats rather than admit it?

Is there only one reason even a little logic to this behavior?

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HUGO BOSS and I also ... DANCE


Most of you already know. But for those who do not know, I can not resist the urge to show off a little. Just a little bit. Because it makes you no harm and to me it makes me feel good. I again had the honor of being among the 10 winners of a stage of international competition poster of Hugo Boss. A year to the day after my appointment in step 10 is the sixteenth on the theme "Motion of Sound" that rewards my efforts. And I'm not proud. An undeniable success that became public, who take exception to the rank of world star, which makes the hysterical girls before each of my works, each of my appearances go unnoticed in the most popular places on the planet. My phone never stops ringing (5 lent an iPhone preview by Steve). They want me, desire me, shouting my name. Nevertheless, and however, my status as a living god I do not rise to the head. I a simple guy. Well, I'll let the beggars, I Barack on the other line.

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The look of the penguins ... uh, more!

Good

something of a little girl ...

It happens that I am one, it falls pretty well.

I think boys do not have this problem

vision of oneself as one day hottie,

tomorrow as a whale ...

Although the meantime it has not fed that

salad dry and warm water ...

bin

And I'm always a little weird

me realize that I do not see myself

probably not at all as I am .........

Uh ... At least I hope so ............
: oS

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I take my New Year resolutions. Normal ...

 

Hello Friends!

So good I know I'm not very active lately, plus I

not even excuse you pass, the big

lazy and that's it ... Sorry: o (
So my drawing suffers, I draw like a potato

! Will I really have to do ... kek'chose

In Other than that, this post (without fall worthy of the name)

was thought the purpose of personal development

(especially personal to myself, but maybe it

would you?) and is not without compared with a blog that

I just discovered: Quit bitching dot com

Bitch or not to moan? That is the question that arises
Christine embarked on the challenge to stop bitching at all during

at least 21 consecutive days, just to see how it feels after. According

experience, that bitch finally does more harm than moaners

to those on whom they rattle ...

And it is precisely the thinking that I was

when I discovered this blog.

The magic of life and synchronicity o)

In quickly!

(Hum. .. at least I hope ...)

PS: For the rants in the car, I think it will

Erte very very hard for me .......

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Hmm ... Female

 

 

   

 
 

   

   

So here it is, I read Twilight.

First, because everybody talks about it, and
so my curiosity was excited ...

Then because I was given the first volume, and
gained consciousness I finished the series.

And then because everything cheesy and girly whatsoever
I finally was taken by the story.

I take quite ...

but not before the vendor who made fun of me ...