For me sex has always been an essential, beautiful thing that should be so intense and enjoy as often as possible.
I never was someone who had intent on sleeping with as many people from so many walks of life, from so many nationalities, religions or of so many from so many different cultures as possible.
So I was never, so I will probably never be - but there were often men and women I met during my previous life, which fascinated me from the ground up.
your aura pulsated formally in many different bright colors, a Gloss seemed to continue going around and the poor love, self-sacrificing, little lamb, that lived in me, was almost obsessed with the fact that a little bit of this color, this gloss rubbed off on him. Owned it a little bit of the souls in itself and absorb in a golden cage to block. Obsessed to possess it something that delighted - even if the happiness lasted only a short time the sexual act.
I was naked and legs spread on a white leather sofa, playing with a strand that hung me in the face. The orchestra, which just a few minutes later a resounding symphony of the forbidden fruit of Eden for dancing with each other, sweaty body had played and sat in my neck and trötete a desolate melody of haunting loneliness - and my heart was pounding move to the rhythm.
In the mirror that hung opposite to me on the wall, I caught a glimpse of my miserable-looking image and noted with an undercurrent of satisfaction that at least my eyes lit up, stronger than before, as if the unknown to me a little its seemingly endless vitality and breathed into his inspiration.
It was time to go, I knew that. As long as he still stood in the shower and washed my beißendsüßlichen odor from the skin had I go to disappear and pretend as if all this had no meaning. But I did not know where to go. The thought of that made at home, that no was at home and its facade was crumbling slowly, the clean streets covered with a dirty white, short aufzittern me, made me afraid.
I took a deep, deep within, my eyes searched desperately in the mirror and calmed down - a little. The queen was not in question. They hung around somewhere, just like me, probably drunk or was sitting in a strange apartment, like me, and hung on her crack pipe like a starving baby hanging from a milk bottle. She stood inside the front of unquestioned, and the comfortable feeling that they usually triggered in me, I was overcome for the first time were not in place and resentment and hatred in my heart, ate their way through the thick walls of my heart and bitten on the wounds they left me had.
No, the queen was not in question. You would just like a black hole that suck, which I had scraped together with difficulty that night. As they always did.
Wen I had for? The lion, who had left me. The parasites, called my friends who missed having a good time behind my back about me.
And me, this small, helpless three-eyed creature in the mirror, watching me and enjoying the view of the plump body seemed to shine a feeling - less like a pile of diamonds, but more like cheap tinsel - seemed to love.
I remained seated until he came out of the shower. He smelled like a men's shampoo, fished out from somewhere in the depths of a shelf in a drugstore. I could not blame him, that he wanted to get rid of me because I probably would have done the same thing.
"Shall I take you home?" He asked.
I shook my head.
He seemed impatient. "Shall I go up somewhere else? Should I look, when is a bus? Or a train? "
I shook my head again. "Would love to sit here a little. A few minutes, a few hours ... "
" But I have to go right. "
looked thoughtfully at me, looked at him and read his thoughts in the light green eyes. If you
with people like me wrong and its colorful luster to the less glamorous, is losing the truncated, black and white souls, one can probably not help but think negatively. More negative than before.
In one moment, one is the seductive, inviolable virgin - the other one is a whore. Arms wide, wide heart, legs wide.
His eyes told me all the novels about his remorse and his pity for the lamb, which bent him with bare body, ready for it, that he cut the throat, and offered the world.
A telling smile on my lips, a stolen shine in my eyes behind false eyelashes, a play bored shrug. "You can remain so even a little ... and then we go out together later."
For a rotten piece of meat I sold I was always very good. I knew what he was thinking, what he felt and his hesitant look, before he leaned down and me touched, told me more than I wanted.
But it was not that bad. At least I was a buntgeschminkte, glittering whore.
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