I have (although I have no religion) been blessed.
I have enjoyed so much of beauty.
I have flattered, seduced, stolen, attracted, enchanted and compelled her. I have adored, admired, worshipped and respected her. I have yearned for, longed for, ached for, wished for, hungered for her.
I have dominated, owned, controlled, instructed, disciplined her. I have used and abused her. I have kissed, caressed, tied and whipped, licked, stroked, teased and thrilled her. I have made her body electric with pleasure.
I have felt beauty moan and sigh beneath my hands.
I have held her in my arms and soothed her fears. I have fallen for her.
Very rarely, I have loved her….
Yet of late I thought I had grown weary of beauty
I thought I had grown tired, cynical, jaded,
I thought my lifetime infatuation with her was over.
But there is something about this beauty that…
View original post 17 more words