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These days, I have redone our affective itinerary (I know it's too soon for nostalgia.) I do not even know if it's nostalgia - because there is nostalgia and, yes, WONDER). Revi discovered. I reaffirmed predilections. Dude, it gave me SO much desire to eat peach stuffed. THE SAME. TOGETHER WITH YOU. There, I fell on the peaked back, in the yard the size of the world, this fruit: "Proust just listening to Albertine's voice was going to orgasm. It is said that: The voyeur look has conditions of phalo (owns what it sees). But it is by touch that the source of love opens. Sticking unbuttons the stalk. Touch is more than seeing. It's more than listening. It's more than smelling it. It is by the kiss that love is built up. It is in the heat of the mouth that the alarm of the flesh shouts. And it opens sweetly as a peach of God. "I only put a fix on this divine flesh, which, among us, it is without touching that you leave me in syrup. And it's with LAMBEIJOS that you cut me. You strip the lump and make it into pulp. And the soda. And everything grows again.

It's almost two in the morning ("let's meet early, because I care for your sleep" you'd have told me.) We've had so much to share! Liquids run down the burned skin. Sweat. Tears. Pleasure. You're feeding on my energy. Exhausted! Light! But still greedy! "Felpudinho, I want to devour you! Even more ... go beyond! "(" I'm giving you all I'll be the blood If you'll be the one I'm giving you all I'm giving you all So lift up my body And lose it all control I'm giving you all "). The smile on Alice's cat stains my face. ("Open my chest and color my spine I'm giving you all"). You feel stunned. And I feel the taste of every part of your body between my wet lips. The same smile drips blood. I begin a ritual. Skin, hair, viscera, tendons, fat, genitals ("You run in my veins How can I keep you inside my lungs I breathe what is yours You breathe what is mine"). "Ready, Felpudinho, inside me you're protected!" And we were never so happy!