THE "FRIENDS"
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- "If I read correctly - a woman who writes me a sign that a first name - and, teaching letters to young people, I think reading, only the couple consisting of a man and a woman your favor. I would have liked to see home, strong feminine, indulgent few lines, I would say merciful, for homosexuals, which I am.
"Would you like that Proust has so heavily committed to our ... Vice gibbet, the better to conceal his? Badly, by the way, thanks so much to write as soon as he abandons talks about his carnal knowledge of women. But no: I swear that you share with certain painters and poets, their fascination with "friends." What to see two women in their play - without being seen - is part of your fantasies, especially since you would leave Soon your hiding to mingle with them, you do the authorizing of their games, not doubting but to convert them to love considered normal! In short, if the sight of two lovers rejoice your eyes, their conduct does not appear unless you against nature. To wonder if you would not feel an injury to the man! What these women who, instead of reserving for the pleasure of the male, are going very well of it? There are definitely there astray. What happens, moreover, if the disease spread, so more and more women are discovering, to their sisters, what refinements can reach physical love - and deduced that their king is naked?
"Since you took the woman, can you imagine that some of us have the same great taste you? Are disrupted by a face, a woman's hair, for a female body they suspect or charged with languor that the greenness of a small page? Yes, why would not we share some of the glare that you experience to tell our bodies?
"You reproach us very badly and you caress little in love. How safe is that you would enjoy petting a summary torso, back, legs, muscular man, to touch a rough skin, bushy, or pungent to smell your scent?
"This expects your hand when it affects us - the smooth and solid and warm and elastic, like a lively sweetness that would flow to measure at your fingertips - why our palms much more refined than yours, do not like it? In the sensations you are looking to us stroking, is not it, basically, from childhood that you're looking for? Or rather-too-distant time when your tiny hand arose in a womb, a womb? Why deny women the right to such nostalgia, she, you know, was not with his mother's son 'relationship, she was so early weaned from fondling? I assure you: the woman who delights to feel the fabric, rubbing one cheek of a child, to hold her breast in his palm, to follow the finger at one of its curves, can not find his account to caress the man, except in his teens!
"Your body seems basic, without any contingency. We toured as a chamber full tour outwards. The shadow - the shadow wet and warm - not rooted in you. And if your smells are detected, sometimes involved, I think ill adapted to feed the imagination.
"A woman's body is quite another, and only a coarse man thinks he knows that of his companion. You who do not tire of us around, us open, we look at all angles, you know that has never finished with us, so we-my som grooves and furrows, ridges, hills, corners, beaches, cracks, creases, fos-settes, time ... All this merging with some happiness, right? It is not for you I will learn that for a clever and enthusiastic hand, a woman's body is limitless, or at least he speaks for its apparent contours.
"It is also necessary to meet such a hand. That of most men with the most urgent short. Consistently heavy, she forgets to be weightless when he should. It is intrusive is in order, but it is subtle, and in a conquered country. Do not ask him to comply with our natural slopes; to feel where it should linger with complacency and there where nobody wants it evasive. It will randomly febrile prodigal of cock-and-l'âne. ... No, not at random: a single place to truth requires it, even that great places on our bodies, waiting in vain that deigns Advise one of them.
"You dream to attend our games in love? You could benefit greatly, so you want that everything we learn and that our initiatives embarrassing. To witness the kind of ceremony, ritual, that is in us, perhaps some would they finally realize that caresses our favor.
"Woman, I know by nature those expected. In their path, their proper weight, their need for continuity of flowing waters, with disruptions that arouse surprise, shock. I have not had to learn everything about a woman delighted, or which project into the fun. For, to thoroughly explore the body of the Other, it's mine I hear, I rediscovered a lot better than the mirror or my hands on me. It is on my skin, my flesh, I am unwinding from my caress. These are my kidneys, my shoulder, my neck, my hips, I touch, hug or kiss or nibble; my folds that I spread my mucous that I'm mature. This vein beating in the hollow of the neck, and I also dimpled the kidneys. By the stomach, the breasts, these slight depressions in the upper thighs, I know my sweetness, my incredible softness. I am one, and de-doubled and redoubled in delight. I find myself confirmed in my singulari-ty, my taste of women. I give a specific answer, nuanced, as if I married me from head to foot, warm and consistent. So is there not, in our games, this feeling of loneliness that gives love with a man, when each of his words, his actions, is at odds with our expectations, despite this to meet with him so little resonance ... and permeability.
"You feel good, too, that love between women involves a time that has nothing in common with yours. With you, the end is immediately present, unavoidable. You bring in the love relationship, your time busy man for whom the act is an interlude, an interlude between two tasks deemed serious, and your hand is, who does not care preambles . But this time already is marked by haste, as soon 1'origine condemned. The jet puts your seed all-to-end jitters. However much you after you show tender, another time that begins and we see even better break than the initial time aspired to extend us beyond the pleasure - when we reach ! Nay: integrating blissfully fun.
"With the woman I love, I do not feel this change in time. We have the same: one that fits two people who never tire to discover, s'inventorier another. I would think that enough time or duration rather reluctant to dwell in man but rejoice in the wife. That why time in two lovers, does not really end, it gradually becomes exhausted and yet still there is always a starter in each. For the love you have with the price, you should first be made to act indefinite patience of the creator, not the time of the child who, by his haste, manhandles her toy. "
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The Murmurs of love
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The love
It's raining. I want to be the equal of female rain.
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The lover
Each morning, I will dedicate this day.
From a distance, close up, you come with me. I know feel the same flare, depth to deteriorate into a pulp rich juices. With, in my ear, a voice neither scholarly nor futile, distracted or impatient: just one vote. And it is far from near, the natural course of a heart.
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François Solesmes The Murmurs of love , Ink Navy.
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