Reflection and erotic story.THE INEXORABLE OF THE SACRED

Reflection and erotic story. THE INEXORABLE OF THE SACRED Gabriel G. Márquez in his book "Love in the times of anger"...says..." we are born with our dust counted, a dust that is lost, it is a dust that is never recovered." How many dusts have we let happen because we are armored, with fear of deception, of hurting ourselves. We prefer insubstantial sex, simply so as not to let the armor rust. What meaning will "making love" have in this 21st century today? For today you deal, you fuck, you fuck, you fifa. Where are the affections, when that communion of bodies is consumed. When we give ourselves to the other, showing our skin, leaving it touch, caress, kiss. We come beaten from past battles, the wounds of war Sometimes they still bleed when we remember them and it is difficult to go to bed stripped of everything. The body can be naked, but not the soul, nor the thoughts. In bed we are much more than two, it is us, you, me and all the others who ever wandered through our lives. They also taught us to love and sometimes just tough our skin. The night started out strange, maybe because we had a day agitated, but once in the room, the magic cast a spell on us. I like your mouth that tastes like tobacco. Your skin slips between my fingers, it's soft, sweet. Your hand lazily moves over my body. I let myself feel. Next to the clothes was the lady, and the primitive female, sexual, eroticism was invested in me, letting the base instincts emerge. I go down your belly to your upright mast. The tide rises and low, a wave of enjoyment invades the shipyard. The feast begins, fires artificial ones explode in my dock. You walk me from bow to stern, running aground lariat. I fix my gaze on yours, you whisper in my ear, whore, and so I feel, your wife, your whore, your hungry wolf. I want to become addicted to you, to the pleasure we give each other, to joy that brings us together, the joy of having known each other. Marcela April04