After subscribing to a relationship site their lives changed. This is how it all started!
An Open Communication to Romantic Attraction
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The eheart.com Team
It's never too late to fall in love again!
Butchie wanted more, more and more. He wanted to know everything about her. He had to meet her. He felt as if nothing could stop him from going to her; as if an invisible pathway was opening ahead of him, he could even visualize it, see himself walking on it, flying over it and traveling distances and far away across oceans and clouds from these far away islands all the way to Brazil! He hungered to touch her!
In Brazil, she read his e-mail to her and that kept her daydreaming all during the afternoon and wishing that the day would become night so she could talk to him. They were bonding, the felt love, passion and desires for more than simply send e-mails to one another. Was this the big thing? Was this Love?
Who has a slight blush, is smiling, and the faint light in the room falls deliciously silent in the spell of silence, and the kind of motionless quiet of things we often can't hear as voices from our past, or people who left us, my father, my mother, my sister, her father, but we learn to lose the grinding rush of tears and sadness that springs from deep wells in the heart, both our hearts feel lonely for loss, and gifts are in moments past, for memory, both our love of loss and not to restore us, but in this, the stillness of dim light, the sun has fallen, the moon is breaking in the sky, and we know this is our time to see in the best sense of glowing and shadows, and, soon to come, the long holding hands, kisses, and motions of two parts of a man and a woman, the best words that a world can bring to the poem of being, a man and a woman, and so we stand, only inches from each other, and hands and arms are turned downward, stilled by the mutual affected glimmer of light, and I shift my eyes from one to another, and to the soft lips, no touching, as it's too full of holding in, and suspended in time, a wild thing of natural blood, rushing as a river coils in time over rocks, nothing moves....
I have seen Christina's eyes, green as hope, and want to touch her delicate neck with the hanging jewel, to touch it with care, not to put my finger on the spot between her warming breasts, but stand straight, waiting, listening to the sound of summer turn to fall, the birds, the little child somewhere calling in the streets, a soft tremble of music, far away, and so we stand, love is quiet, we are separate but together, and I am breathing with Christina, and she sighs, with care, looking but not touching, and we think how it is, this thing, this love, and yet it can't be touched, but the image is clear, the breath is warm, less than inches from my lips, in faint light, the hair is scented with perfume, the blouse heaves again, and I breathe her inside me, eyes to eyes, we can't move, paralyzed in spiritual and physical wearing, almost like hypnotic sleep, we can't reach or touch, but stand inches apart.
So, when Christina breathes, her breasts touch my breasts and have a feeling of need, to taste, to find, but warmed by the simple breath, the touch of distance and the fragrance of love, both hands and arms are sidewards, and down, but want to move, but can't, and now I see more green as the light shifts into the eyes, as Christina raises her chin, slight, but asking like a wild horse, please nuzzle, and I see her chest above her soft blouse turning a shade of red, as if it changed after love and feel the heat of our bodies untouched, but wet, together, and so that's where there's a ground of passion gone into the deepest part, of loving, of passion, compassion, feeling the freedom of wishes gone deeply into the flesh of deep thrusts of wonder, again, without touching, but standing so close, and then - when the moon is rising, the lights fade, and it's dark.
Christina, so passionate, so much a woman, the mother of girls, the sweet scents of roses, lyrical steps, and we climb, and Christina, now so close, touches me, folding her hand into mine, the fingers joined in marriage, and she takes me away, and I love her because I do, and she's the last woman, the best woman, the woman I will be with forever. In the other room, Christina's hair lies floating on a pillow, and she looks up to the ceiling, then to her left, then right, knowing the hand she felt was there, and is coming to her, and I come to her, touched by the silence and the woman's gift for passion, to me, and she reaches out, pulls me, with soft hands, to her and we kiss.
Our kisses are slow, but we come inside with tastes of each other, moving inside, eyes closed. Imagining the best kiss is long, sweet, and almost endless, and in this there is no meaning of time and place, because the kiss is forever. We're breathing so close, our mouths are inside, and the hours go by... We cling to this, and love this. We're friends, we're lovers, we're children, we're a man and a woman, and when we love we make love and let the rest of the night rest peacefully. In the end, my head falls against Christina's head and she kisses my hair which falls against her green eyes.
I fall into love, as I fall upward from the sea, and she falls upward in my arms, and we carry our love without hurt, without longing for anything more, because what is so fine, so sweet, is there, and after the first touch of sleep, there is what a man and a woman both love and in love, a long night, a sense of being, nothing more alone, nothing casual, but the remainder of a night and what is more is left, and is even with all other kinds of loving, Christina holds me tightly, and she cuddles me as her man, and her child, and I love Christina. So we sleep. In the morning, we will say "hello", and "I love you". I'm so happy we are together, Christina. You have my love, in waking, in sleeping, in all things - we are but a man and a woman in love.
Your love drives me a little nuts. But I can handle you, your mind and your love. Want it - of course, sweetheart. I want you loving and caring, and doing the same to me as we do to each other - cute is loving, as in "cute" as a child, highly endearing, as it reflects both child and woman, shy and nobility, sweet and coy, cute to hold, to touch, to smell, like baby's hair, like love -I love you - what are we going to do about all this? I love, adore you, and want you - Talk to you later tonight, my love.