The Ludus, My Ludus ...

The sofa that turned into the arena where there is nothing to conquer but one’s  self. You hear ur fears spelled thru someone else’s tongue and realize they are not fears, they are realms of a parallel life that co-existed next to yours with hundred years of moon difference. No distance can’t crossed bodies solve over the Ludus while sipping the mercury as you get forgotten to be free, you get forgotten to EXIST. In my Ludus, my arm is an extension of someone’s leg. In My Ludus,  someone’s hands can fondle my Venus the way I fondle her and the way I like to fondle her. And when my Ludus becomes better than a hundred KamaSutra proposed position, everyone else should throw the book, liberate and sink in their own imagination instead. You don’t kiss much, comparing to average lovers, you don’t kiss enough and my legacy is a passionate kisser. But, was it annoying? Am not sure, I played along and I was not annoyed nor  distracted from the original skill which is being a connoisseur of touching.  

Am glad that porn industry didn’t spam you. Didn’t spam the sensualist in you, didn’t spam ur sexual brain, didn’t spam ur touches, didn’t spam your facial expressions, and I do love this childish smile of yours when you silently express your joy of the momentum.  We rub our flesh back and forth, we go slow motion, we go fast motion. I allow my arms to scrub against your balls, your inner thighs, your upper legs, against your Spartacus and I moan, I moan… We kiss again, we kiss more this time, you kiss, you kiss again. I speak “So now you kiss? … I wanna play”  .. You: “I told you I kiss more and more gradually” .. we laugh and I continue my rub. We feel easy, we breathe easy, the heart still easy, we don’t rush, we drag, we keep dragging and rubbing  and my face expression change, my moan change, I go mute, I close my eyes so I can see your flesh better, so I can smell you better, so I can bite your nipple better, so I can lick your balls better. We kneel on the Ludus arena as if we gonna dance, but we don’t dance, we kiss, we kiss again, and then I open my eyes and look at you with that post fever and think that this was a hypnotizing act anyone would wanna seek. We lay there and start Whiplashing and the night fade as you sleep over my lap while am dragging my hands over your head.

We Let Go, we become the bird who seize the food, be it a moment, a dream or a simple carnal desire,  we just seize food for our soul, for our spirit…