by Cara Vermaak
She stands perfectly still in the embrace of the storm, savouring the beauty of the lingering night touched by the wildness of the raging storm. Her eyes follow the lightening blaze as her body trembles with the roaring thunder.
The sky is clad in a kaleidoscope of colour, painted in harsh contrasts, in the clothes of rage and love, soft, gentle colours surrounded by dark threatening boldness. Perfection steals her thoughts, rips her soul to places of pleasure, places of wonder...
She becomes one with the stormy night, the sounds of her silence brings tranquillity, initiating a hunger for him, entices her to passionately be one with the beauty, lures her to touch secretly…. A secret so beautiful, a secret so rare, a secret of intense passion drawing her desires to perfection, drawing her to a touch of pleasures. She invites the gentle spray of rain to play, to softly entice her warmth, guide her to the moment of purity. To a moment with him…
She joins the dance of the storm, her body echoing the passionate desire of the thunder, waltzing with the lightening display. She closes her eyes to meet the dark intense eyes of him, the demanding gaze of his desire revealed in his fervour. The hands take control of the need, lures the senses to nothingness, to magick. Her need to be one with this moment drives her to tear off the restrictions of morality, opening her to the mystery of pleasures.
She feels the hands explore, the strong hands of him caress her in full perfection. She feels him through space of time lure her to him, to his core, to his beauty, one life touching the next. Her body burns with the mystery of desire, mind whirling at the wonder of such wildness, such ecstasy. Her lips taste the sweet nectars of him, the nectars of his gifts; she becomes breathless as the intoxication of his craving drives her to a crescendo of magick.
She finds the silence of self, the silence of pleasures move her closer to the beauty of the storm, the beauty of self as the body surrenders to the blinding pleasures offered by the touch…the storm stops his venting, stops the rage, the gentle moon plays hide and seek with the passing clouds….
Last updated August 14, 2011