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Click herestirring to the sounds
of the girl's gasps
as he enters her,
her convulsing naked back,
gray in the moonlight
that pours through the temple's window
like the blood liberated
from the samurai's belly
so many lifetimes ago.
She can taste the flesh now,
in this long-abandoned
house of the gods,
feel the girl's hardened nipples
bouncing against her lover's
naked chest
as she rides him,
his strong sword
engulfed by her pounding cunt,
her frenzy
overtaking her now,
her walls milking him
as her tongue
finds his mouth,
parts his lips to gain entry
to his soul.
That is when she strikes;
the girl,
lost in the nothingness of ecstasy,
surrenders her body,
and she wraps herself
in the girl's flesh,
tasting skin
once again,
smothering her lover's body
with her nakedness,
her tongue probing deeply,
his flesh now hers
as she meets each trust of his cock,
her hands pushing on his chest
as he comes,
pouring himself into her,
and she once again knows the shudders
of surrender,
as she pulls every drop
into her hungry cunt,
emptying his balls.
They collapse together,
flesh on flesh in the moonlight,
while the girl floats slowly
in the silent shadows.
Our normal waking consciousness, rational consciousness as we call it, is but one special type of consciousness, whilst all about it, parted from it by the filmiest of screens, there lie potential forms of consciousness entirely different.