Chapter 75 ...
! Turu-turu-turu ... Friday, June 20, 2008
Chance Of Recovering From Stage 4
= D
Chapter 75: Bubbles of Love
I love.
He has confessed tonight, and it has been demonstrated, and that, in way. A smile breaks his strongest expression by surrounding the blanket he has stolen. A smile and a whisper of laughter escapes by biting his lip. It does not disbelief, but because despite everything, we find reason to everything that has happened so far. As if he had not spent his whole life just as she knows that if passed, would not be here in Fernando's apartment living.
You have been given completely, body and heart. She loves him, and it is hoped so. And more afraid that may harass, by the doubts that may arise, he removes it all with a kiss. She does not repent, or the, or this love. The serenity of
at night surrounds the second night sequence is repeated once more on his mind.
His eyes. Never before had realized the true color of your eyes. Were brown, yes. But never before realized how much he looked like coffee grounds. Intense, and never just one color. Always changing, never the same as a moment before, dependent on their emotions. Brown when he looked at her gently, vertigo between coffee and almonds. A sleek brown, lifeless as a dead tree, when shaken with grief. His eyes like two sweet, fresh and sweet, when happy. Dotted light green in the center of his eyes when moved by what I felt, only seconds away from modeling crystal eyes. He had seen all these changes today, but it was the last of the night, the stranger the heat but for the moment and the night breeze he could steal. Their mocha eyes, the color is now always associated with his desire. I wish she also felt to have it on your body. Dark chocolate color in his eyes when he entered it, a spark of fire appeared in their irises to overwhelm them both with everything in it, all you gave him.
She inhales. Strong. Still witnessing - the scent of cologne his face freshly fallen wood, coffee in the morning and man, mixed with your shampoo Summer rain and clean clothes detergent. Still witnessed, because now it was the aroma. There was no corner in your body that was not marked by their hands, their language, their smell. And while bathed a thousand times, one after another, does not believe will never take off his scent. Although, of course, that if he wanted. Detail which at the moment it only widens the grin.
She drags his index on his lips, feeling where I had bitten. She even decided to take the next step with him the minute that had beaten her door, the fear that followed the embargo. Again and again try to escape, but was not left. By, or by herself, she escaped by that door. Had spoken, advanced, and already in her bedroom when she felt the weight of his decision. I did not know if he was prepared, safe. But the kiss. At that time, her lips were the only ones that mattered. She had surrendered to the kiss, his eyes closed, almost fainted when he heard the groan smaller escape his lips.
"Lety," he had whispered his name dragged out by what appeared to be a long and painful seconds.
was his dying moan, the way that reflected his own need that overflowed, dropping deep to feel touch, to test your breath, breathe your essence, to witness her nudity. But it was his voice, marking and hoarse, he burst out of control, the way they say your name.
"Lety."
She returns from the past, the memory alive, aware of his presence to turn to the threshold of the terrace. His arms folded across his bare chest, his pants hanging low around his waist, so that the rebounding on their bare feet by the cold of the night.
"What are you doing?" He asks, not realizing that it could be as interesting on the terrace at two in the morning.
She smiles. Widely. She smiles because she is born, because there is no case at the time that you remove the expression. And that is what captivated him. His innocence. His tenderness. His way of removing the air to breathe just a little girl smile. He approaches
uncontrollably, giving a kiss to wrap your arms, intoxicated her with its warmth as she with him. There is nothing wrong with kissing. No fear, problems, false reality. Just them. She Him. And this ridiculous happiness bubbling in her stomach when she looks well. It looks like a little girl wakes up and excited for Christmas morning when she kisses him now. Plays, and smiles, and laughs to her lips of pure happiness.
The falls even more so to hear laughing. Without inhibitions, openly, with freshness. Facing the world had never heard. Only the front. His
.
I do it again. She looks at him, her eyes flitting to and fro, seeking his own amusement in his eyes. She will laugh at him, and he is going to leave.
"How much do I look?" She laughs.
He smiles, raising a hand to hide a strand of hair behind her ear. She raises her eyes to him, and this is what it leaves another knackered. She is a flirty irresistible. She happily looks at him with a spark of mischief, cocking his head to seduce him. She always surprises you, and that's good.
He embraced even closer, she turns her eyes, amused by their inability to respond. She turns in her arms, leaning his head on his chest while hugs against him, both facing the spectacular view across the city at night, enjoying it.
She let out a sigh, which makes smile. She is happy, and is proud that it's because she's with, because she knows she is safe in his arms.
"What were you doing out here?" He asks, curious to know why the deck had called at this hour, in this cold, when in was comfortable, in bed under the covers, with the.
She bites her lower lip, but is not observed So do not realize. "Thinking," she manages to say without a point of inflection in his voice.
Fernando's hands fit better around your stomach, resting his head on his shoulder covered with a green blanket. "In what?"
The heat had settled in his stomach to see him on the threshold of the terrace, now up, her cheeks blushing, something which does not shout its gaze upon the city. "In ... things," she says, trying to maintain the informality of his tone.
"That sort of thing?" He asks. Emphasizing that more than anything to continue the conversation open, to hear his voice, listen to breathing against. One thing which at this point she is doing. The tilts his head to look about the same position, just realizing her sudden shyness. "Our stuff?" He suggests, his flirtation evident from the way the corners of his mouth rose slightly.
He looks, and she knows it. Looks askance at his eyes fixed on her, waiting. And that does nothing more than altering the heat pulse and move toward the tips of his ears.
He shakes slightly amused to see even in the light of the moon just your blush. "I'm not going to answer?" He insists, and still quite higher than it was not anything made even more difficult to tilt the head to go a little over his face. "At least tell me that you liked ..."
She can not help but smile, resting his hands on him, yet still placed on his stomach on the blanket. A small layer between your body and the naked. Another sigh
more.
The stronger I hold her, giving him a kiss on his temple, and resting his forehead against the same place, closing his eyes. "That's a yes?"
"I 'like' is short."
She has to turn his eyes to know that he is smiling. His eyes just closed, her lovely smile on her lips inevitably delicious, which now he deposited a kiss on the cheek.
She imitates him, closing his eyes, and deep breathing.
The stops his lips, still against it, only slowed breathing tickling her on her skin. "But ..." he asks, his lips an inch from their burning skin.
"No 'but,'" she confessed in an air of breath, not realizing how he had been holding his breath.
"So?" Apparently when he realized his arrest.
"I was thinking on ... forget it." His gaze on the city against their better eyes, trying to focus, knowing that the staring now.
"Now if I was curious," he will declare, as she supposed. "Come on, tell me," he asked with another mild concussion.
"It's nothing ... just was thinking that maybe if you wanted,"
He almost turned his eyes to drop you twenty, baffled by her own mental retardation, especially about that certain topic. "Lety," he interrupts, his voice sweet and soft. "I want to make love?"
She stops in her arms, her voice barely audible girl and when she dares speak. "Only if you want. "
He is far from cold, in the heady and front bedroom at the foot of the bed before she could say more.
"Why do not you tell me before?" He asked to touch his cheek with his forefinger. His smile reaching his eyes.
"You were sleeping," she answered simply. The
placed both hands on each of her cheeks, wrapping his lips to it. Lety
let his hands fall on her boyfriend's bare chest, while the green blanket, which whose job was to protect all the cold, lying at her feet.
"From now on, I wake up," el le susurro contra los labios, envolviéndola con su calor. Ahora, era su trabajo de protegerla.
I love.
He has confessed tonight, and it has been demonstrated, and that, in way. A smile breaks his strongest expression by surrounding the blanket he has stolen. A smile and a whisper of laughter escapes by biting his lip. It does not disbelief, but because despite everything, we find reason to everything that has happened so far. As if he had not spent his whole life just as she knows that if passed, would not be here in Fernando's apartment living.
You have been given completely, body and heart. She loves him, and it is hoped so. And more afraid that may harass, by the doubts that may arise, he removes it all with a kiss. She does not repent, or the, or this love. The serenity of
at night surrounds the second night sequence is repeated once more on his mind.
His eyes. Never before had realized the true color of your eyes. Were brown, yes. But never before realized how much he looked like coffee grounds. Intense, and never just one color. Always changing, never the same as a moment before, dependent on their emotions. Brown when he looked at her gently, vertigo between coffee and almonds. A sleek brown, lifeless as a dead tree, when shaken with grief. His eyes like two sweet, fresh and sweet, when happy. Dotted light green in the center of his eyes when moved by what I felt, only seconds away from modeling crystal eyes. He had seen all these changes today, but it was the last of the night, the stranger the heat but for the moment and the night breeze he could steal. Their mocha eyes, the color is now always associated with his desire. I wish she also felt to have it on your body. Dark chocolate color in his eyes when he entered it, a spark of fire appeared in their irises to overwhelm them both with everything in it, all you gave him.
She inhales. Strong. Still witnessing - the scent of cologne his face freshly fallen wood, coffee in the morning and man, mixed with your shampoo Summer rain and clean clothes detergent. Still witnessed, because now it was the aroma. There was no corner in your body that was not marked by their hands, their language, their smell. And while bathed a thousand times, one after another, does not believe will never take off his scent. Although, of course, that if he wanted. Detail which at the moment it only widens the grin.
She drags his index on his lips, feeling where I had bitten. She even decided to take the next step with him the minute that had beaten her door, the fear that followed the embargo. Again and again try to escape, but was not left. By, or by herself, she escaped by that door. Had spoken, advanced, and already in her bedroom when she felt the weight of his decision. I did not know if he was prepared, safe. But the kiss. At that time, her lips were the only ones that mattered. She had surrendered to the kiss, his eyes closed, almost fainted when he heard the groan smaller escape his lips.
"Lety," he had whispered his name dragged out by what appeared to be a long and painful seconds.
was his dying moan, the way that reflected his own need that overflowed, dropping deep to feel touch, to test your breath, breathe your essence, to witness her nudity. But it was his voice, marking and hoarse, he burst out of control, the way they say your name.
"Lety."
She returns from the past, the memory alive, aware of his presence to turn to the threshold of the terrace. His arms folded across his bare chest, his pants hanging low around his waist, so that the rebounding on their bare feet by the cold of the night.
"What are you doing?" He asks, not realizing that it could be as interesting on the terrace at two in the morning.
She smiles. Widely. She smiles because she is born, because there is no case at the time that you remove the expression. And that is what captivated him. His innocence. His tenderness. His way of removing the air to breathe just a little girl smile. He approaches
uncontrollably, giving a kiss to wrap your arms, intoxicated her with its warmth as she with him. There is nothing wrong with kissing. No fear, problems, false reality. Just them. She Him. And this ridiculous happiness bubbling in her stomach when she looks well. It looks like a little girl wakes up and excited for Christmas morning when she kisses him now. Plays, and smiles, and laughs to her lips of pure happiness.
The falls even more so to hear laughing. Without inhibitions, openly, with freshness. Facing the world had never heard. Only the front. His
.
I do it again. She looks at him, her eyes flitting to and fro, seeking his own amusement in his eyes. She will laugh at him, and he is going to leave.
"How much do I look?" She laughs.
He smiles, raising a hand to hide a strand of hair behind her ear. She raises her eyes to him, and this is what it leaves another knackered. She is a flirty irresistible. She happily looks at him with a spark of mischief, cocking his head to seduce him. She always surprises you, and that's good.
He embraced even closer, she turns her eyes, amused by their inability to respond. She turns in her arms, leaning his head on his chest while hugs against him, both facing the spectacular view across the city at night, enjoying it.
She let out a sigh, which makes smile. She is happy, and is proud that it's because she's with, because she knows she is safe in his arms.
"What were you doing out here?" He asks, curious to know why the deck had called at this hour, in this cold, when in was comfortable, in bed under the covers, with the.
She bites her lower lip, but is not observed So do not realize. "Thinking," she manages to say without a point of inflection in his voice.
Fernando's hands fit better around your stomach, resting his head on his shoulder covered with a green blanket. "In what?"
The heat had settled in his stomach to see him on the threshold of the terrace, now up, her cheeks blushing, something which does not shout its gaze upon the city. "In ... things," she says, trying to maintain the informality of his tone.
"That sort of thing?" He asks. Emphasizing that more than anything to continue the conversation open, to hear his voice, listen to breathing against. One thing which at this point she is doing. The tilts his head to look about the same position, just realizing her sudden shyness. "Our stuff?" He suggests, his flirtation evident from the way the corners of his mouth rose slightly.
He looks, and she knows it. Looks askance at his eyes fixed on her, waiting. And that does nothing more than altering the heat pulse and move toward the tips of his ears.
He shakes slightly amused to see even in the light of the moon just your blush. "I'm not going to answer?" He insists, and still quite higher than it was not anything made even more difficult to tilt the head to go a little over his face. "At least tell me that you liked ..."
She can not help but smile, resting his hands on him, yet still placed on his stomach on the blanket. A small layer between your body and the naked. Another sigh
more.
The stronger I hold her, giving him a kiss on his temple, and resting his forehead against the same place, closing his eyes. "That's a yes?"
"I 'like' is short."
She has to turn his eyes to know that he is smiling. His eyes just closed, her lovely smile on her lips inevitably delicious, which now he deposited a kiss on the cheek.
She imitates him, closing his eyes, and deep breathing.
The stops his lips, still against it, only slowed breathing tickling her on her skin. "But ..." he asks, his lips an inch from their burning skin.
"No 'but,'" she confessed in an air of breath, not realizing how he had been holding his breath.
"So?" Apparently when he realized his arrest.
"I was thinking on ... forget it." His gaze on the city against their better eyes, trying to focus, knowing that the staring now.
"Now if I was curious," he will declare, as she supposed. "Come on, tell me," he asked with another mild concussion.
"It's nothing ... just was thinking that maybe if you wanted,"
He almost turned his eyes to drop you twenty, baffled by her own mental retardation, especially about that certain topic. "Lety," he interrupts, his voice sweet and soft. "I want to make love?"
She stops in her arms, her voice barely audible girl and when she dares speak. "Only if you want. "
He is far from cold, in the heady and front bedroom at the foot of the bed before she could say more.
"Why do not you tell me before?" He asked to touch his cheek with his forefinger. His smile reaching his eyes.
"You were sleeping," she answered simply. The
placed both hands on each of her cheeks, wrapping his lips to it. Lety
let his hands fall on her boyfriend's bare chest, while the green blanket, which whose job was to protect all the cold, lying at her feet.
"From now on, I wake up," el le susurro contra los labios, envolviéndola con su calor. Ahora, era su trabajo de protegerla.
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