passionate dance

A Passionate Dance

Let us talk about inspiration in the lowest chakras, a great spiritual endeavor – a passionate dance! It’s the story of how two energies flow into one so fervently and dynamically that you get dizzy in the head. The song, the dance, the beat, the rhythm is just an excuse. As if the Lord has bid the man to do with the woman as he pleases. And he is ready to break the walls with her, almost literally. Not only closeness, but interlacing, and he pulls you dramatically into his virile embrace as hard as he can. Suddenly, he is not only in front of you but beneath you, above you, between you, inside you. What then is the difference between an impassioned dance and lovemaking? Pure setting…

He just took her on the spot. As the singer was screaming her lyrics, two souls were almost yelling with desire. The beat was hard and unforgiving, his movements were convincing and strong, she almost lost consciousness with desire. It’s beyond anything – she declared. Their holy essences had merged into one. He was pressing her with every beat really close. The feeling was almost psychedelic. He carried her around the dance floor, his movements so hard, that he managed to practically lift her curvy body in the air. Love was streaming from every cell. She never remembered being held so close, so hard, so generously. She couldn’t help but emit a sound or two. Goodness, it was Love!

She had no words to express herself but the occasional moans. She felt him, all around her – at once – and she felt how he pressed her towards him, in such a way that she was almost in the air, exposed to his mercy. It was not delicate and fine this time – it was a rough game with a rough lover, and God knows how she needs a rough lover sometimes.

It was a story ready to be written in a notebook of fine pink pages, smelling like perfume with a note of jasmine and peppermint, and it is a story which will be ashamed of the pink. Oh, well, a never was there ever a dance so glorious as this magical Bachata. Even the first sip of morning coffee or fine milk chocolate does not hit you in the heels like this. It was unbearable! Their bodies were singing instead of the drums. To say that her panties were on fire, will be an idiom-understatement. Music was through them and in them, and nothing else mattered. Yes, that was the hot cup of tea she wanted to taste – being in his arms. Needless to say, she felt physically comforted, even more than this – she would feel exhilarated for a couple of days in a row. Friends and foes would admit the loveliness of their union. In the course of the entire song – fire did not subside it was unleashed from their bodies and into each other. He was carrying her around the hall in his firmest grip, it was as if they were in bed together, a very good simulation of lovemaking. It was intense.

She thought of the book about musicians she had once, the one that was called “Where Words Can Not…” His craft was to extract of her a feeling of captivating delirium, she was submitted to his power and her bodily movements corresponded to his, generously, yes she had never seen him dance like this before: insane, alien lovemaking. All of this happened without a word of conversation; from time to time his laughter reminded her that he was enjoying the dance just as much. But the talk was in their bodies – and it was expressive of formidable passion, and it was expressive enough.

I am a freelance writer: an experienced, quality, flexible, original, excellent freelance writer. That's what my fans say about me: "Obviously you are smarter, hotter and more sexually motivated than other women, but still you find ways to stay single."

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