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Por amarte robaria una estrella... ili Drhtati pod tvojim rukama

Por Amarte

Amor es una cosa especial
no es un viene y va
amor solo te pasa una vez
pero de verdad
Amar es cuando solo piensas
en donde estara
amar es como un milagro
deficil de explicar

Amar es cuando la proteges
de la lluvia y el viento
amar es cuando tu la abrazas
y te olvidas del tiempo
amar es cuando tu la veas
y te pones nervioso
amar es cuando tu te das cuenta
de tus sentimientos

Por amarte robaria una estrella
y te la regalaria
por amarte cruzaria los mares
solo por abrazate
por amarte juntaria la lluvia
con el fuegov por amarte daria la vida
solo por besarte

Amar es cuando escribes tu nombre
por todo el cielo
amar es cuando solo sueńas
con llevartela lejos
amar es cuando tu la ves
y se queda en tus ojos
amar es cuando tu te das cuenta
ella lo es todo

Por amarte robaria una estrella
y te la regalaria
por amarte cruzaria los mares
solo por abrazate
por amarte juntaria la lluvia
con el fuegov por amarte daria la vida
solo por besarte

Kao što sam obećala, nakon konačnog popravka računala, prilažem nastavak priče... Pjesma koju mozete vidjeti iznad je "Por amarte" Enrique Iglesiasa i nazalost zasad je nisam uspjela naci na netu pa nemam link za njen download. Pokusajte s nekim od pretrazivaca za mp3 glazbu. :)





We swung for a while - pressed up close one to another. It was a lullaby for just the two of us. I could feel the sheets from his bedside beneath my body, and I hesitated. Suddenly it felt like all of this was incredibly wrong.

Twisted.

Corrupted.

I passed along his back with my fingers and twisted my arm so I could feel my skin next to his. I loved the lower part of his back... It was so tender and susceptible to touch. Sometimes he would smile as I touched it, like it tickled him. I got the butterflies in my stomach and I couldn't stop.

He pulled his shirt up and took it off across his neck line. He wore a plain white T-shirt undearneath, and I could see his waist line beyond his belt.

While we were singing our lullaby, I couldn't take my lips off his. It was as if I was afraid of letting go. I pondered in the moment. If I had stepped away for a second, he might have moved faster ahead. And my knees where already trembling with insecurity.

I couldn't wait any longer. This point in time froze, and I was moving still...

I knew what he wanted. He was always so impatient. This time I just couldn't care. It was there, in front of me, confronting me inside his blue eyes.

"We lay in each other's arms, but the room is just the nicest place; we left something in there, there's something in the air..."

We parted for a second, and I fell on top of his bedside.

His bed was small and cozy, and probably the only one he ever had. It was and american type of bed - without lim or any rods. Simply a soft mattrace covered with a big, fluffy layer of covers that felt warm just from the touch of it. As I sat on it, it lost its balance for a moment and we laughed because of its crookedness.

Everytime a mishap in our passion occured, my boy and I laughed. It was the most wonderful feeling ever. I could do the clumsiest and silliest event and we would accept it so lightly, as nothing more than part of our pleasurable moment.

But then we stopped laughing. Something much more serious ran like a road runner through my brain cells. And there was no dispute that this very same mental athlete had been training inside his head for this entire time too.

That god awful feeling overflew me again. At this point, there was no turning back. I knew my options. I could run. I could hide. I could tell him everything or I could pretend. I could force myself to this and deny my anguist. I could let go. But instead, I chose to do none of the above. I listened to something hidden inside of me, a whole new part of my soul that lived beyond my control. It felt like fever. It felt like I was a complete case for the psychiatrics, like I had just lost my mind and live solely in this point in time. No past. No future. Just now. MORE. THIS. HIM. ME. UNDER HIS HANDS.

MORE. MORE. MORE. MORE.

Was I about to do this? Was I capable of giving one final thing I still kept private to my boy? Was he capable of holding my secret with care, not breaking it? Was he going to go this far? Did he know me so well, to know my wishes before his? Did he know me better than myself? Did he ever know me at all? My brain certainly wasn't going to answer all of this for me. So it felt like I was leaving it all up to chance.

He fastly unzipped my jacket and threw it on the floor. But I subconsciously knew this was going to happen. I could have worn my old, puffy black jacket, but instead I chose to wear the smaller, more attractive one that we bought together on our trip to Austria a few weeks earlier. I knew he would look at me differently depending on what I was wearing, as vain as it might seem. That very same vain part of him drove me insane at times. Those times he really acted like the typical male. But then again, this made it so much easier for me to play our game. It made it so clear to me what would tickle his arousal, so I could see the exciting results.

Tricky and sneaky, I know. But I enjoyed it never the less. Was I being bad? Maybe. This unlikely discovery was awaken inside of me in such a rush of emotions, that I needed to cling to it as strongly as I could.

We were kissing so intensely now. I wanted to devour him with my kiss. At first, he was shocked to see me act so uncontrolled. But there was no hesitation in his embrace. He acceptes these new found rules and played along. His tongue was moving more deeply into me than ever before, and his movements were inexplainably rapid.

I changed our rhythm from time to time. I would suddenly slow down my moves, always almost reaching a halt, but never completely stopping or giving him the chance to take the lead. I gently licked his lipd and created soft, quiet sounds of satisfaction because I knew how badly it made him want for more. Every time I sustained in speed I could feel his heart beat and his entire body pulsate as if it was hungry for something. Then we would change paste. I bit him by the lower lip, almost hurting him, but always so gently to let him know how tender I wanted to be with him. I continued nibbling on it faster and faster. I teased his tongue once more and played with it faster as well. Now he couldn't wait anymore, so he took control.

I could feel him breathe inside of me. We shared the same breath, and I felt like our souls and thoughts were entwined in one another. We were one. I sucked on his tongue like a pop sickle and I could hear him humm incoherently as I did this. His hands were all over me at this point. I let him slide against my thights and hips with his fingers and it felt so good. He was so anxious, but this movement was the one movement that he always performed with such tender touch. He was so gentle and careful it made me completely intoxicated by it.

Like animals in heat, we moved slowly, making sure we didn't make loud noises. His mother was about to come home any minute. But I still didn't care about that. All I saw, all I felt, all that existed for me was our energy in that room. This elevation and feeling like I was on dope made me strive for more. Stronger.

MORE.

The bed squeeked and I wondered about the thickness of the walls next to his neighbour's room across the wall a few times. I still had my winter gloves on, which I didn't remember to take off in the heat of the moment. I threw them off of me and off the bed, and we heard something metal fall to the wooden floor underneath us. It was his ring.



I again gazed into his hands. Oh boy, I love his hands. They were so strong and protective, and I wanted them on top of my skin. I wanted to hold my hand in his, to trap him under me and hold them so tight, as if I were to attack. To make sure he couldn't move. They were rough, like the hands of a skilled craftsman, but when he placed them on me, I responded to them like to the sweetest and gentlest touch ever. He was so good with his hands. This was a craft indeed to him, and I was about to be moulded. I was a clay sculpture waiting to be created into a beautiful piece of art. He changed my expression to his own taste, so I began to tranform into whatever he made me up to be. My being was not in my possesion nor in my control. It was of HIS making. My body melted with the water he introduced to the dirt I was made of before this love, and now the water had made me feel alive. A sculpture created in a rain of feelings unproclaimed; in an eye of a storm about to break free.

I feel under him and he climbed and top of me. His body was so finely crafted and strong. When he was younger, he spent a lot of his time swimming and training, so that now, even though he had stopped, this was forever carved into his posture. His heart beated so fast, and his body shook over mine. I could sense his stomach and his muscles contract in an undefined rhythm. I followed with mine. We moved as one again, him pressing me stronger and stronger with every heartbeat.

He whispered my name into my ear and kissed it gently, but impatiently. I wanted to make him feel me, but it was much too soon for me, for us. I couldn't go that far. Not yet. I couldn't bring myself to trusting him that way, with so much faith in both of us. It was all just to unsecure to become real so soon. He took me by the hand and lowered it against his thighs. I felt afraid, but the fear was weakening more and more. He continued undressing himself and I didn't have the wish to stop him. my curiosity got the best of me. he told me not to be scared and kissed me again. I still don't know if I should have resisted. Was it futile to do so? I touched him and he began to breathe even more intensely now. Hearing him breathe so unproportionaly and uncontrolably made me want him so badly. He couldn't stop. He moned and breathed in and out like a timid child. I kissed him softly and whispered to the beat of his heart bumping against mine.

He would change paste between kissing my lips and my neck. The one sensation I was completely impotent to were his kisses on my neck. His lips were naturally soft and full, so whenever he would cross over my neck bone with them I shiverred slowly and shyly. He was so sly... He would kiss me softly, lick my skin and pull it to his breath, trying to suck me into his it. This made me sooo weak. I couldn't help but get constant flashbacks of the moment we kissed for the first time.

It all began with a love bite, with a hickey. Everybody could see it, and I didn't even try to hide it. Not even from my mother. I didn't think. I felt. That was it. My destiny. To feel. Most people hide their love marks from the world, but me, no. I wanted them to see it. I wanted everyone to know I was his. I belonged to my boy. And he marked me as such with that bite.

This time he sucked on my skin even stronger. it reached the point of pain, but my brain didn't register it as pain at all. In fact, to some mazochistic point, it was the strongest feeling of pleasure ever. I hurt, and I wanted more. NOW. RIGHT NOW. I wanted him to leave a mark.

I wanted to show you I was yours again... You held me captive - I belonged, I surrendered. I was imprisoned. I loved.

He would stop to kiss me on the lips again, but I wanted to divert him back to my neck. Oh god, this must have been 7th heaven. I was weak for his touch. When he would run his hands over my stomach and my waist, I would tremble, and when he combined it with his heavenly kiss, I felt as if and angel had taken me by the hand, had taken me by the heart. And he took all of me. He had taken me away. Far away...

* * *

As I layed there, sleepless under his arms holding me tightly, I gazed away to see a hundred blue stars on the ceiling. As his hands continued to travel across my skin, up and down, I came from the lowest point of calmness to the highest in an explosion of emotions. I wondered constantly if he felt but a small part of this beautiful sensation.

I wanted to crawl into his head and read his mind like an open book. This was always so hard for me. He was a mystery. A puzzle made up of millions of pieces which I needed to assemble together to understand the big picture. And with every new discovery, his life seemed to penetrate more deeply into mine. He had made me fall in love. I am in love. Why does he choose to ignore it?

He continued to corress me gently. I could feel his fingers get warmer by every moment of friction created between our skins. he places them underneath my shirt and moved them up my belly, across my waist... To my breasts. He fell upon me with all his strength and removed the cloth from the left part of my red vest. I wore this old red vest which my dear aunt bought for me many years ago. It was my favorite, and I believe, most beautiful one. Its color was of the most wonderful, passionate red shade, entwined in love, blood and intensity. I wore it because I felt truely beautiful in it. And I hoped I'd be beautiful i his eyes, too. It had a long, V-cut neckline and my skin felt sensitive just to the feel of the tiny, sweet fabric above it. He pulled one side of my vest a bit more to the left and tickled me over my laced, nightly black bra. He hesitated for a moment, trying to tease me by making me yearn for more in this bittersweet anticipation.

Strung out for a dose. I was a junkie.


Man makes holy what he believes, as he makes beautiful what he loves. - Renan[/I]


Post je objavljen 22.12.2004. u 20:16 sati.