She is a flower whose rare and exquisite beauty is beyond any other under the heavens. Through time she has been the prize of those with finer tastes, her delights unknown to the ignorant and the inspirited. She has forever captured the awe of men, who have sought her gift throughout the world, desperately following the undeniable power of her scent. Only a sensitive heart can truly feel her. Only a sensitive heart can truly understand her mystery.
Her incarnations are as diverse as the colours of the sky; from somber purples to bright pinks, her mood is an ever changing palette of breathtaking beauty. Her silky petals are soft and delicate, flawless in their femininity. I can imagine them unfolding and swelling to the warm touch of the rising sun. Her colours changing, brightening, intensifying as she is slowly awoken by the soft kisses of light he gently lays on her moist lips. Her passion grows with each tender caress and she stretches toward the light in eager anticipation.
I yearn to gaze upon her, to feel her delicate softness, to inhale her sweet scent. I yearn to be the light she so desires. I yearn to be the one whose kisses enflame her passion, in whose heat she writhes. I wish to be drunk on her nectar like an old Roman God, her essence flowing into me and filing the emptiness inside.
I have long ago fallen under her spell. She has a purity of being that draws me like a king of bees to her scent. It is not the purity of inexperience, but rather the purity of an innocence that doesn't vanish with experience. There is no greater pleasure, no greater joy, than to be her inspiration. To give her that which I so desire from her.
Her incarnations are as diverse as the colours of the sky; from somber purples to bright pinks, her mood is an ever changing palette of breathtaking beauty. Her silky petals are soft and delicate, flawless in their femininity. I can imagine them unfolding and swelling to the warm touch of the rising sun. Her colours changing, brightening, intensifying as she is slowly awoken by the soft kisses of light he gently lays on her moist lips. Her passion grows with each tender caress and she stretches toward the light in eager anticipation.
I yearn to gaze upon her, to feel her delicate softness, to inhale her sweet scent. I yearn to be the light she so desires. I yearn to be the one whose kisses enflame her passion, in whose heat she writhes. I wish to be drunk on her nectar like an old Roman God, her essence flowing into me and filing the emptiness inside.
I have long ago fallen under her spell. She has a purity of being that draws me like a king of bees to her scent. It is not the purity of inexperience, but rather the purity of an innocence that doesn't vanish with experience. There is no greater pleasure, no greater joy, than to be her inspiration. To give her that which I so desire from her.
VIEW 19 of 19 COMMENTS
He was not used to feeling helpless.
A former Star-Cruiser Captain in the Royal Fleet, now a freelance Agent, he had certainly had his share of demanding moments.
Sitting back in his chair, he let out a long slow breath and closed his eyes, as was his cutom upon commencing a series of deep thoughts.
'Something's VERY wrong that's for sure...' He had one of his distinctive bad feelings- and he could tell it wasn't one of those which usually accompanied his meals at the space station diner.
He was facing two obvious options- none more appealing then the other.
the first was to consult the rebels.
Not that he objected their cause- it was very admirable indeed, they were definitely men of principals- even if they didn't wash that often...
They would probably have a plethora of conspiracy theories, from which he would be able to weave a thread of logic to lead him onwards on his way to find Grooverider.
The problem was the rebel's attempts at recruiting him- they would not leave him alone, using whatever means necessary to redeem him from his 'Greedy, Apathic state' as they refered to it.
One of them especially.
'She.'
She was the rebel commander's daughter. He didn't even know her real name- only what the rebels called her- The Tiger Saint.
Being a lone wolf started out as a pre-requisite for his line of work, and gradually became a lifestyle- One that he cherished and protected.
But there was something about her....
He would have to be careful and distant next time.
The other option was conducting a more formal line of investigation within the Galactic Council Court.
He thought of his last visit there. A smile crossed his face at pleasent memories from his brief encounter with the young duchess of Kajal- The Lady Keynor, only to be transformed a second later, into an expression of embarassment at the memory of the hugh scandal that followed and his hasty departure.
still- he could disguise his ship and go incognito...
He had to decide...