Song 8: link
I remember being in your arms,
But it is not Du oder me I remember.
It is my arms,
Remembering your arms.
His hands, his eyes.
Her skin, her lips.
The single candle illuminating the house.
The cozy warmth of the room.
The texture of his hemd, shirt under my hands.
The feel of her curls between my fingers.
His lips brush mine.
Her eyes flutter closed.
I melt into his embrace.
My hands clutch at her dress.
He holds me as I fall.
The creak of her narrow bed, unaccustomed to my weight.
His lips at my neck.
Her hands on my chest.
My mieder flung carelessly aside.
My hemd, shirt tossed to the floor.
His hands at my breasts.
Her lips on my chest.
His lips at my breasts.
Her hands clutching my hair.
Too many clothes.
Not enough room.
The cool night air against my skin.
Her skillful fingers at my trousers.
His tongue against mine.
She tastes like honey.
He is man.
She is beauty.
My body is his.
I need to make her my own.
So warm, so hard.
So warm, so soft.
He is luxury.
She is decadence.
His hands on my body.
Her lips on my skin.
He touches me where no man has ever touched.
Her slender fingers are soft and strong.
I want you.
I need you.
His hips, narrow and firm.
Her thighs, strong and smooth.
Firm and velvety.
Warm and moist.
The pleasure, the pain, the pleaure.
Tears kissed away.
Exploring hands, curious lips.
We are one.
Pleasure.
The room is spinning.
Our hearts are full.
Our hearts beat in time.
Fingers clutch, lips caress, teeth gently bite.
Soft moans, plaintive cries.
Pleasure.
Love.
Abandon.
Joy.
Quivering bodies.
Sweaty, salty skin.
Eyes closed, eyes opened.
We are flying.
We are soaring.
Sunshine after the rain.
A blossoming blume bud.
A bright spark in the cold of winter.
Water burst forth from a well.
Release.
Pleasure.
Breathing.
Soft kisses.
Breathing.
Merida - Legende der Highlands promises whispered in my ear.
Soft sighs against my skin.
His arms around my body.
Her arms around my neck.
He is a tattoo on my heart.
She is burned into my very soul.
Song 10: link
I remember being in your arms,
But it is not Du oder me I remember.
It is my arms,
Remembering your arms.
His hands, his eyes.
Her skin, her lips.
The single candle illuminating the house.
The cozy warmth of the room.
The texture of his hemd, shirt under my hands.
The feel of her curls between my fingers.
His lips brush mine.
Her eyes flutter closed.
I melt into his embrace.
My hands clutch at her dress.
He holds me as I fall.
The creak of her narrow bed, unaccustomed to my weight.
His lips at my neck.
Her hands on my chest.
My mieder flung carelessly aside.
My hemd, shirt tossed to the floor.
His hands at my breasts.
Her lips on my chest.
His lips at my breasts.
Her hands clutching my hair.
Too many clothes.
Not enough room.
The cool night air against my skin.
Her skillful fingers at my trousers.
His tongue against mine.
She tastes like honey.
He is man.
She is beauty.
My body is his.
I need to make her my own.
So warm, so hard.
So warm, so soft.
He is luxury.
She is decadence.
His hands on my body.
Her lips on my skin.
He touches me where no man has ever touched.
Her slender fingers are soft and strong.
I want you.
I need you.
His hips, narrow and firm.
Her thighs, strong and smooth.
Firm and velvety.
Warm and moist.
The pleasure, the pain, the pleaure.
Tears kissed away.
Exploring hands, curious lips.
We are one.
Pleasure.
The room is spinning.
Our hearts are full.
Our hearts beat in time.
Fingers clutch, lips caress, teeth gently bite.
Soft moans, plaintive cries.
Pleasure.
Love.
Abandon.
Joy.
Quivering bodies.
Sweaty, salty skin.
Eyes closed, eyes opened.
We are flying.
We are soaring.
Sunshine after the rain.
A blossoming blume bud.
A bright spark in the cold of winter.
Water burst forth from a well.
Release.
Pleasure.
Breathing.
Soft kisses.
Breathing.
Merida - Legende der Highlands promises whispered in my ear.
Soft sighs against my skin.
His arms around my body.
Her arms around my neck.
He is a tattoo on my heart.
She is burned into my very soul.
Song 10: link