You are Magic. Your legs are bewitching in their bewitchingly long elegance. What I wouldn’t give to follow the path they lead. Even blindfolded I would reach my journey’s end up where they end.
You are magic. Your waist is a sensual creation sent from dreams and drunken visions to fuel my imagination. I don’t care much for dreams and drunken visions…Still my imagination has a mission to get from your waist an occasion for a sensual lesson.
You are Magic. The unrepentant swell of your sweet ass terrorises my every waking moment. The way it wiggles…The way it rises… The way I whistle… Wherever they lead I will follow. Forever to rise and fall shall be my motto. Because in their movement I see a better tommorow. I just need to spank and see, to hold and feel…to squeeeze and feast. Its illegal how they move. Its magic how they look.
You are Magic. Or your boobs are… Or I think they are… Like dormant volcanoes they sit. Tipped by two nipples. Like live pistols to touch them is to enact an enchantment. Suck them and watch with merriment the rise of sleeping giants. Squeeeze them and witness a feeling outside the bounds of science.
Aah my love. You are magic.
That’s how I know you are mine. For I believe in magic.