Red Dress Reality

    The red dress had been a piece of fiction. A object which held mythical prowess.  I never thought to ever see this image in real life. Never suspected I would descovered how the red dress caressed the contours of that body. Had no hope that I might look down the slowping curve of her neck.

    Pulling the bow free of it's knot; hearing the sweet slide of fabric confirms a reality that I dare not think of. In my arm rests my Eve. Here with me is the Goddess to my God.

    I encounter a sweetness that is a consuming force upon me. I have never felt a sweeter caress then the collasping blouse over my arms. I am reduced to my baser needs. The soft tenderness, the taste of twin desire is my longing. To run my tounge along those rising peaks brings me to my hardest point.

    A point which I want you to know the hardness of my body. To see you consume my culminating sumation of mascalinty. To feel that sweet rythm of you hair as it spils to and fro in a musical progresstion which sings deliverance.