Eroticism

[NivKay]

The space is the shell of the soul, like encasements within which we house the dead so we can commune with the after life

 

[softbird]

The space is the shell of the soul, like encasements within which we house the dead so we can commune with the after life

Sounds like you've read Gaston Bachelard

 

[NivKay]

Sounds like you've read Gaston Bachelard

Mayyybee...

 

[bookworm69]

Spaces, architecture has its own eroticism - spaces are like churches of a different religion, a spirituality borne of brick and mortar and imagination. Often, without realising it, we drown in such spaces, their vastness engulfing us, till we become mere features of a bigger artwork, elements of a canvas. Isn't this also quite an erotic moment, the thought that we are children of a vaster cosmos, and that when we meet, come face to face, it is only by accident.

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It's natural that your mind marries eroticism with space. The erotic, like space, needs to breathe. The erotic requires capture of the moment ... and that is easier done when space is abundant and empty, which makes capturing the moment more special.

 

[softbird]

Its when she looks at you, truly looks, not the kind of look that one gives in passing, a 'hello' or 'excuse me' but a look, when she finally sees you, when she finally understands your presence as undeniable, and that what you are, who you are, has, in some way, pierced the defences she has set up around here. This is eroticism - recognition. What happens in that moment? Are you human, alive, present, because you think you are, or because she sees you?

 

[NivKay]

No. 5 is you. I'm certain of it.

 

[softbird]

And here we go again...!

 

[NivKay]

And here we go again...!

I note that you are not denying it.

 

[Coconutty70]

Its when she looks at you, truly looks, not the kind of look that one gives in passing, a 'hello' or 'excuse me' but a look, when she finally sees you, when she finally understands your presence as undeniable, and that what you are, who you are, has, in some way, pierced the defences she has set up around here. This is eroticism - recognition. What happens in that moment? Are you human, alive, present, because you think you are, or because she sees you?

To lean in, hands full of each other, pulling each other in, gently but with clear intent. It is a moment without words, but is deafeningly clear in its vibration. To feel her breath gently caress my cheek; feel the closeness of her; smell her perfume and the rich aroma of her shampoo, coating my airways and coming to rest on the back of my tongue. My olfactory system is triggered, causing my pupils to widen, my hips to shift position, my hands to hold tight and draw her closer to me… my lips parting. A single, stray hair brushing against the side of my nose, causing a momentary tingle, making me break into an amused smile: a welcome interlude to the anticipatory intensity. My eyes are cast down watching the shape of her lips invitingly changing, and I glance up. In that moment our eyes meet and this is the look which you describe, @softbird. In that moment I am finally SEEN and FELT in an undeniable way! I am no longer just an image, nor a possibility, or a set of words, a description, a persona… not a bringer of needs, nor subjected by an agenda. I am just me, and it is just me she wants. The simplest version of me, laid bare. Nothing more. My presence desired, unconditionally and in that one moment we are mutually recognised, as we silently gaze into one another’s presence. Now i can close my eyes. Now I can feel her lips against mine, and our tongues seek each other in unison. The barriers are down, my face is soft, I feel opened, and willing to be filled to the point of spilling over. Finally. I have been seen. It has been a long time coming.

 

[Pad_Foot]

The second one.. it leaves more to the imagination.. wouldn’t you say?

I’m just happy to have your approval

(Never sent?)

 

[NivKay]

To lean in, hands full of each other, pulling each other in, gently but with clear intent. It is a moment without words, but is deafeningly clear in its vibration. To feel her breath gently caress my cheek; feel the closeness of her; smell her perfume and the rich aroma of her shampoo, coating my airways and coming to rest on the back of my tongue. My olfactory system is triggered, causing my pupils to widen, my hips to shift position, my hands to hold tight and draw her closer to me… my lips parting. A single, stray hair brushing against the side of my nose, causing a momentary tingle, making me break into an amused smile: a welcome interlude to the anticipatory intensity. My eyes are cast down watching the shape of her lips invitingly changing, and I glance up. In that moment our eyes meet and this is the look which you describe, @softbird. In that moment I am finally SEEN and FELT in an undeniable way! I am no longer just an image, nor a possibility, or a set of words, a description, a persona… not a bringer of needs, nor subjected by an agenda. I am just me, and it is just me she wants. The simplest version of me, laid bare. Nothing more. My presence desired, unconditionally and in that one moment we are mutually recognised, as we silently gaze into one another’s presence. Now i can close my eyes. Now I can feel her lips against mine, and our tongues seek each other in unison. The barriers are down, my face is soft, I feel opened, and willing to be filled to the point of spilling over. Finally. I have been seen. It has been a long time coming.

oh my...this was quite the love note...quite lovely to read!

 

[softbird]

I note that you are not denying it.

Nor have I allowed it.

 

[softbird]

"The word uttered, just a second ago, takes me by surprise. It is as if the word, its tincture, its shape, has cut some kind of fissure into the world's fabric, as if, its scalpel, gleaming with brutal honesty, has sliced open the moment has been holding on to, like a fortress defending its ramparts. What I hear interests me, but something stalls me, stalls my response, as if between the iteration of the word, and its kiss against the sinews of my mind lies a vast chasm - one could jump into it, and be immolated by its fires below, or one could hold to the utterance, the vibrations in the air, and keep in this still moment of ambiguity"

 

[softbird]

Touch me here, she says, and what do you do? You freeze. The three words are uttered, not as command, but as plea, as trust, faith. Touch me - fire, crucible of yearning, and then the here - this is plea, a realisation, an awareness of weakness, and the longing to be kept in this weak moment. "Touch me, here," she says, and what do you do?

 

[softbird]

My mornings are painful, because they always come rushing in with things I choose not to remember. The morning gives me no choice. So each morning, I hitch these thins on my back, or tied to my legs and waist, and I take them with me through the day. each night I think - perhaps, if I wear white, or white things, the darkness won't cling, or will forget how to, but the morning comes to consciousness, and there they are, these dark emissaries.

 

[Hmm72]

And here we go again...!

 

[softbird]

Sometimes she knows you're looking and merely returns the gaze. But there are times, perhaps too few and far apart, when she shows you what she knows you wish to see. These are moments of sheer terror, the pleasing kind, an erotic horror where desire becomes aggressor, where lust bites.

 

[softbird]

This is a confession - those of you who follow this thread know that i love both men and women, and anyone in between for that matter. But this is one of the things i love most about women - their ears. Do you notice them? those protuberances, often hidden away, cloaked by hair. But when a woman tucks her hair behind her ear, I feel like a world is opening up, like a door just slid open, and I am invited to walk through that portal. I know what ears can do. Lick and fondle my ears, or play with them with your fingers, and I think I could be yours, over and over.

 

[sunset_dreaming]

But when a woman tucks her hair behind her ear, I feel like a world is opening up, like a door just slid open, and I am invited to walk through that portal…..

Divine. So freaking divine.

(I don’t usually like to cut up posts, especially such beautifully curated as yours, but I had to make an exception here. Sorry )

 

[Coconutty70]

My mornings are painful, because they always come rushing in with things I choose not to remember. The morning gives me no choice. So each morning, I hitch these thins on my back, or tied to my legs and waist, and I take them with me through the day. each night I think - perhaps, if I wear white, or white things, the darkness won't cling, or will forget how to, but the morning comes to consciousness, and there they are, these dark emissaries.

Morning is often the time for these things. I frequently reflect in the morning before being fully awake. For example if I were with you the day before, making beautiful memories, these are the things which would be with me when I wake, coursing through my mind without interference. I might lay for a while, turn over and smile. More difficult memories emerge in the dawn too, before the day has brought something new to displace them. Like you say… these memories wish to hop into our day bag, uninvited, and come along for the ride. They will not have been there all night, but they would like you to think so. Our instincts often tell us that the monsters are in the shadows at night, under the bed, or behind the curtains, when everything else is still and the imagination has time to run wild, but our expectations are high, we are alert, and our shields are up! No… it’s often the morning when monsters know we are still vulnerable from our sleep, not yet ready to stir, and when we are open to suggestion. This is why a lover whispering morning messages gently into our ear, is so sweet, or how lovemaking and being held in the morning feels so glorious. Our minds and bodies are still wide open, before the agendas, tasks and stresses of the day require us to become locked-in to our day’s mission. So, morning is the time for monsters, but only because they know we are open and ripe for the picking. Once they realise we have caught on to their devious trickery, they can be disarmed, in time, and replaced with something more compassionate. Because morning is also the time for compassion.

 

[softbird]

I’m just happy to have your approval

(Never sent?)

Consider it sent

 

[vibes]

But this is one of the things i love most about women - their ears.

Are you just fond of them, or are you picky?

 

[softbird]

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Morning is often the time for these things. I frequently reflect in the morning before being fully awake. For example if I were with you the day before, making beautiful memories, these are the things which would be with me when I wake, coursing through my mind without interference. I might lay for a while, turn over and smile. More difficult memories emerge in the dawn too, before the day has brought something new to displace them. Like you say… these memories wish to hop into our day bag, uninvited, and come along for the ride. They will not have been there all night, but they would like you to think so. Our instincts often tell us that the monsters are in the shadows at night, under the bed, or behind the curtains, when everything else is still and the imagination has time to run wild, but our expectations are high, we are alert, and our shields are up! No… it’s often the morning when monsters know we are still vulnerable from our sleep, not yet ready to stir, and when we are open to suggestion. This is why a lover whispering morning messages gently into our ear, is so sweet, or how lovemaking and being held in the morning feels so glorious. Our minds and bodies are still wide open, before the agendas, tasks and stresses of the day require us to become locked-in to our day’s mission. So, morning is the time for monsters, but only because they know we are open and ripe for the picking. Once they realise we have caught on to their devious trickery, they can be disarmed, in time, and replaced with something more compassionate. Because morning is also the time for compassion.

Thank you.. it’s an important reminder.. one needs them every now and then..

 

[softbird]

Divine. So freaking divine.

(I don’t usually like to cut up posts, especially such beautifully curated as yours, but I had to make an exception here. Sorry )

 

[softbird]

Are you just fond of them, or are you picky?

Ears are ears.. gorgeous..