What am I if I am not a creature of Love? Who am I if not to be Aphrodite; a receptive encasing for Him; to feel his hand in mine, butterflies in my stomach, a force so strong it shakes me to the core? The entirety of His heart is holding me, so what am I but a chalice of the infinite potential of His power?
Two people, destined to meet, are placed side-by-side on a Trans-Atlantic plane ride to a city that has been calling me home for over 5 years, and finally my soul has listened. After talking about our lives, and where we are from, I sense a deeper urging inside of him... and when he reached out his hand, I accepted it.
Two people, destined to meet, are placed side-by-side on a Trans-Atlantic plane ride to a city that has been calling me home for over 5 years, and finally my soul has listened. After talking about our lives, and where we are from, I sense a deeper urging inside of him... and when he reached out his hand, I accepted it.
The masculine; I am ever amazed and reverent towards He. The witness behind his eyes brings forth my beauty, the heat in his groins melts my delicate sheath, I become butter, all defenses have dissolved; the love from his heart has pierced all crevices, some unknown even to me.
I am Woman but less than half of what I am then when I'm without Him--my refectory counterpart which shows me all the aspects and possibilities of myself, and they are infinite.
Each human's sexual imprint is a super-imposed snowflake of electrical impulses, no one can ever be the same as the last, and the thrill of each new lover in my soul lights up new neural highways, connecting me with the super nova of space. When we are engaged into this erotic frequency, we are suspended between the dimensions, transcending all. We are fully awake and alive, pulsating with the energy of creation itself.
When he touched me I felt like his fingertips brought fractal universes onto my nipples, spinning a new power of light into me. I became completely entranced, my eyes rolling into the back of my head, resting on his shoulder, feeling his lips one millimeter away from mine, breathing heat into my spine.
Our palms met, after an hour or two of conversation on the plane. A stranger turned familiar in one second flat. Not all the words in the English dictionary could describe or replace or encompass the blueprint of Him on my soul. He touched me, all of me, a fire that ignited in my womb and burned into my heart, a Symbol of perfection, of perfect peace, an imprint that said,
"You are safe. You can relax now. I am here for you and will never let you go."
His Love melted my entire being. My whole body became orgasmic. I could feel the pulsation pumping through his veins, his spine, his groins. Fantasies start rolling over in my head; I want to kiss him, I want to feel his wetness on my tongue, I want to reach down into his pants and just hold his cock, to feel the texture of it on my palms. I want him.
The airline stewardesses walk by and asks if we need any tea, coffee or water... People are still shuffling in their seats, and the cabin lights are still on. I don't want anything but to fully merge with him.. which Airline is this again?? Oh Air France doesn't accommodate those who want to join the mile high club.
The two lovers on Row 29 were anxiously awaiting for the cabin to calm, the stewardesses to disappear, the lights to dim, and the passion between us to engulfe our soul.
"I want you. But in a soft melting kind of way...." He whispers into my ear. Eric is in his early to mid-fifties, probably married, and we have no chance of making anything of this connection in the real world.
He pulls me even closer into him, his chest pounding, his heart an offering to my inner softness. Finally I turn my head, my lips calling towards mine, our tongues meeting for the first time, one of those first kisses that gives you chills... A Kiss of the Soul, that offers the full depth of that person, their emotional imprint, a chemical reaction more than just hormones in my body ... Love is not just some chemical produced in the body ... It is the matrix that births us.
This sensational energy lasts for a couple hours while we are sinking into our seats, flying over the Atlantic Ocean awaiting our final destination from Seattle. I was visiting my mother, and he had just recently moved to Seattle, and is an avid boater, needing to be by the water. His oceanic pulse filled the waterways of my veins.
I know I have to sleep or I'll be toast when I arrive to France, so I take a sleeping pill and cover my eyes and release into slumber into his arms. He holds me, for thousands of miles until we touch down, and made my trans-Atlantic flight seem like a short hop into a new dimension of Palatial Grandeur.
The spell ended there, and we had to act cordial de-boarding the plane, groggy, and mostly sleepless. We walked through the airport together, finding our bags and going through customs.... I found my driver outside, and my new found air-panes crush departed ways, but our hearts will always remember.
But my Parisian adventure have just begun....
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