So I am driving down the road late at night. The fullness of the moon shines so brightly just north of the horizon. Casting slivers of streaming light of gray, silver, and blackness that swallows everything up. A hunter’s moon will soon be upon us.
Blaring through my stereo, hypnotic beats with sultry women’s voices singing their love songs, lost of love songs, and all the heartbreaks of lost loves. When a woman sings these songs it drips like honey and my heart melts from their sad woes. Chomped between my teeth is a wonderful cigar burning and the plumes of smoke circle my head filling the cab of my truck with a rich aroma. I reflect my days that have passed and the days that are coming.
My heart beats strongly and my mind reflects boldly. I have tried to live like a saint but my sins weighs me down. The lust of my loins burns deep into my soul and my eyes dance in wild fantasy when woman’s body comes into view. Remembering those naked wrenching bodies filled with lust and dripping with sensuality. Draining my essence and perspiring my love. Many hot sultry nights were our bodies were entangled in mess of our lovemaking. Our breathing is heavy and our pulse is quicken with each passing moment. How many times did I bring the woman out of you through out the night. Leaving quivering on the sweat soaked sheets. A soft touch sends into another organismic spasm. Our cream drips from between your legs. Your breasts are swollen and your nipples sensitive to the touch. Your lips burned with my kisses and your eyes are still wild in lust fullness.
How bewitching, beguiling, and satisfying your body is to my touch.
No, I am not a saint but I am make one hell of a sinner.
Chopping my premiere cigars, drinking aged Irish whiskey, and eating the finest of foods. Living life large and making every moment count. It is that nectar from between your legs and the honey words that drip from your mouth, the kisses that brand my soul that I can never be a Saint.