Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta amici. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta amici. Mostrar todas las entradas

miércoles, 26 de diciembre de 2018

SE ABRE EL TELÓN...






Ella:                   Dulce y nerviosa
Él:                     Atrevido y ansioso

Ella:                   Teme por lo que le suceda
Él:                     Alardea de su experiencia

Ella:                   Deja caer su ropa lentamente
Él                       La observa como lobo hambriento

Ella:                  Sus pezones erizados brotan como espinas
Él:                     Se agarra a la silla para no asaltarla

Ella:                  Deja caer su brasier como al descuido
Él:                     Lo toma contra su cara e inhala su aroma

Ella:                  Desabrocha su falda, mirándolo de reojo
Él:                     Aplaca la bestia con su mano

Ella:                  Desliza su falda mostrando su liguero negro
Él:                     Se asombra de tan hermoso trasero

Ella:                  Suelta uno a uno los ganchos de sus medias
Él:                     Con sus ojos la acaricia con deseo

Ella:                  Desprende sus medias provocativamente
Él:                     Se desquicia, tiene hambre de ella

Ella:                 Sólo le quedan sus braguitas que rozan su sexo
Él:                    Le salta encima y se las quita a besos

Ella:                 Excitada gime de placer
Él:                    La penetra con furia y la hace estremecer




Al final… ambos, en el suelo, entre espasmos y llanto se retuercen de placer.






Carmen Pacheco
@Erotismo10
26 de diciembre del 2018




viernes, 31 de agosto de 2018

¿OYES ESA MELODÍA?



¿Oyes esa melodía?

Es el reflejo de lo que tu alma le hace sentir a la mía.
Es como un paseo por entre las profundidades del Universo.
Es el rozar de las alas de un colibrí, que revolotea sobre mi lengua cuando te acercas a mí.
Es estar elevada por sobre el mundo y sus miserias.
Es permanecer en silencio, mientras una sinfonía deleita mi existir.
Qué importancia tiene si no estás aquí en cuerpo presente
Si en cada arpegio de ese violín, vas despojando mis caretas.
Lo único que deseo es volver a besarte como anoche
Ese beso húmedo y apretado que me diste en sueños
Fue tan verdadero, que desperté tocándome la mejilla
No importa que no estés.
Vives en mí todo el día.
En la brisa que me acaricia.
En el sol que me calienta.
En la lluvia que moja mis deseos.
Y en la paz que me da el saberte vivo.

¿Oyes esa melodía?
Son nuestras almas que se abrazan en pleno amanecer.


Carmen Pacheco
@Erotismo10
31 de agosto de 2018



sábado, 24 de marzo de 2018

WHO ARE YOU…



Who are you, who keep my mouth longing?
Who are you, that you remain tattooed in my senses?
Who are you, that without asking permission you persist in my dreams?
Who are you, to caress my soul without meaning?


Who are you, to sleep beside me caressing my folds?
Who are you; you have other possibilities at risk
Who are you, who silently love me?
Who are you, that in the distance I wait for you?

Who are you, that you entered my world turning it upside down?
Who are you, to for walk naked for all my life?
Who are you, that without asking you put your wings on my tongue?
Giving me the miserable hope of a I love you

Tell me, who are you?




Carmen Pacheco
Lasculpasylamuertedelamorii@hotmail.com
March 23, 2018

sábado, 17 de febrero de 2018

SIGUES DENTRO DE MI...




En la distancia te siento
Como un coro celestial, que ora mientras canta.

En la distancia te abrigo
Como ese niño que ansía la caricia de su madre.

En la distancia te presiento
Como el ciego que espera el amanecer
para sentir los rayos del sol en su rostro.

En la distancia no te olvido
Aunque luche por ello
Sigues presente como ese aliento de vida.

Hoy tu lengua navegó entre mis caudales.

Hoy tus manos tuvieron el control de mis velas.

Hoy esta embarcación sigue su rumbo
Sin olvidar a su amada alma
Ésa que supo coquetear con la mía...





Carmen Pacheco
lasculpasylamuertedelamorii@hotmail.com
@Erotismo10
17 de febrero del 2018


domingo, 8 de octubre de 2017

SEX ON A TRAIN...





He was an ordinary man. He passed through the crowd, without arousing any feeling. Every day he went from his house to work and vice versa. There was nothing that made him smile. His life had become a string of truncated dreams, monotony was his horizon.

Pablo had married Matilde twenty years ago. From that union were born three loves. They were Paul's eyes but they became Matilda's life. Everything in his house changed. The care was transferred, only and exclusively for the children. On those sleepless nights, Paul would turn and begin to caress his wife knowing that he was ready to make her feel the heat of a man but she would take his hand away and turn asleep. Pablo, many times it was necessary to resort to that old technique to relieve the desire that he had to feel it and thus leave all its source within his bowels. Only that night would not be.

The next morning Matilde said nothing and went into the chores of her house and her children. So the years went by and Paul had devised a way of self-satisfaction. He never stopped trying with Matilde, but there were other reasons why "No". One night they were the headaches, others the menstruation, the child requires my presence and stop counting. It had become an impossible mission. He was very much in love with his wife and for that, he also justified her.

So it was passing time and already Pablo and Matilde were not, like woman and man to make love. Both were aging, he with his yearning and her with the decision to be a housewife and nothing else.

For the world they were the perfect marriage. They were never heard to argue, they were always seen with the family and of course, for society, Paul had never betrayed Matilde. As I said the "Perfect Marriage" Only the procession went inside and without knowing it about to explode.

One afternoon, when Pablo was leaving work, the boss asked him to stay an hour longer to finish a sales analysis that they had to present the next day at the partners meeting. For Pablo it was a routine, there was no reason to run to go home, total would not find anything different from the everyday.

Already in his sixties, despite his age, life had been benevolent with him and kept in very good condition. He liked to run from time to time to de-stress and went every Saturday to the park and there he ran for three hours straight.

That day he left work at nine o'clock at night. He went to the train station and found it quite and alone. It was not unusual for him to be at that hour on the train. There were few people waiting on the train platform. He had brought some of the work that was to be completed by the next day. It was said, I go to read it on the train while I travel and when I get home I make the corrections that I will need.

In the distance the train whistled, announcing its arrival. He opened his doors and was alone. The other passengers embarked in different places of the tren so that he had alone. Better, he told himself, so they do not interrupt me and I work a little

The train came out of the station between metal squeaks and wobble of the wagon where he was traveling.

He looked for his glasses and read the document he was carrying. The distance between her work and her home was about two hour. Immersed in the papers, he did not notice that a young woman in her mid-twenties had slipped into the place where he was. Suddenly hears her voice, and when drops the paper she meets a beautiful young woman, white as snow, her hair in the color of a sunset. His dark eyes were on him as he played with a piece of hair, which made him nervous and not knowing where to look. He decided to go back to what he was doing. Suddenly he felt her hands touching his leg and releasing the leaves he saw and was and saw her kneeling between her knees.  What are you doing, he asks. She just moved her hands between her thighs. Pablo was not able to shout or say something higher than a "No" do not do it, No, do not continue but she did not stop seeing him in the eyes caught the belt and was slowly unbuttoning. Pablo felt that he was covered by an electric force and that his voice came out more and more, but he always repeated "No, do not do it" "Stop please" his voice was not heard. The woman was already lowering the closure. There was no one in that car, apart from them. No one saw what was happening. The train movement added more to the sense of pleasure that was growing in Paul. His eyes could not believe what was happening to him and even what he was feeling. He had always thought, since Matilde did not want to make love to him, in what they had married, he imagined that he was dead of sensations and at that moment his body was a bunch of them.

His hands were thin, with long, hot fingers. With all the skill that has made that move, he took his penis and brought it to his mouth. She wanted to scream but she could not, the sensations rising and falling on her body. Every sucking was an indescribable delight. Pablo squirmed in the seat, , each time his mouth went up and down. So they stayed for a few minutes and as a woman understood what she did she climbed to the hips of Pablo and penetrating herself she rode him like a mad rider. He at last gave himself up to the facts and took her by her buttocks and forced her to feel him deeper and deeper. It was already that man who had once been and responded as only he knew how to do it. They were minutes of delirium and desire. She took his hands and made him touch her beautiful breasts, they were not so big but very firm. Already the madness could not be stopped, he made it several times before reaching his destination.

There were no farewells or words, only each one took his way as if nothing had ever happened, but for Paul they had been the most exquisite hours he had ever felt. The Paul returning home was another man. When he arrived and greeted Matilde, she noticed something strange. He looked at it without knowing what was different, he turned around and said to himself, "These are things of mine," that old man is going to have, but more and more years of age.

Pablo did not eat that night, got into the bathroom and remained there smelling his clothes that still had the smell of that girl. Without understanding, just sniffing and remembering made the blood run faster and made him want to be, again, inside that beautiful woman. He bathed and lay down if he said words to his wife. That night he dreamed of that train car and with hands that caressed him making him to end again that morning and leaving the mark of his sin on the sheets.

Paul's life was no longer the same. She understood that despite her years she could make a woman happy. He tried again with Matilde and changed the routine of looking for it but it was useless, and Matilde, that woman he fell in love with had died, instead a dry and bitter woman reigned. The following week he began to leave work late, with the only hope of meeting, again, with that pretty woman. But it was useless she never saw her again. He became a ghost who wandered the train wagons at night with the only hope of finding the woman with the hot fingers.



Carmen Pacheco
lasculpasylamuertedelamorii@hotmail.com
@ Eroticism10

October 8, 2017

jueves, 3 de agosto de 2017

DISTANCE BETWEEN TWO SOULS...





She frail and scared
He bold and fearful
Both give themselves to the sweet dream of love
She is naive and modest
He avid and determined.

The game has started, let the contestants come out
Two beings from miles away are yearning
And unknowingly they start the most exciting dance ever performed
Their arms are intertwined, their tongues are stabbed
Your saliva emerges as a healing spring
That lubricates their throats quiet for love.

In the distance a cat moans a sensual melody
His purring makes his partner come out to meet him
He takes her, with his sharp teeth, by the nape
She gasps with pleasure.

Their hands fly like bats at night
Only the radar of their desires allows them to feel their sexes
He stands on his back
She arches under her hips.

There is a distance separating them
There is a lot of desire to feel the skin
In the distance a clock gives its twelve strokes
It reminds them that time has passed.

She frail and scared
He bold and fearful
Both with a single desire in the soul
But with the saddest certainty of what can not be.


Carmen Pacheco
@Erotismo10
3 de agosto del 2017



LA DISTANCIA ENTRE DOS ALMAS...






Ella frágil y asustada
Él audaz y temeroso
Ambos se entregan al dulce sueño del amor
Ella ingenua y pudorosa
Él ávido y decidido.


El juego ha empezado, la locura se hace eco de sus anhelos
Dos seres en la distancia se ansían
Y sin saberlo comienzan la danza más excitante jamás interpretada
Sus brazos se entrelazan, sus lenguas se acuchillan
Su saliva emerge cual lluvia sanadora
Que lubrica sus gargantas calladas por el amor.


A lo lejos un gato maúlla una melodía sensual
Su ronroneo hace que su compañera salga al encuentro
Él la toma, con sus dientes afilados, por la nuca
Ella emite un grito ahogado de placer.


Sus manos vuelan cual murciélagos en la noche
Sólo el radar de sus deseos les permite sentir sus sexos
Él se yergue sobre su espalda
Ella se arquea bajo sus caderas.


Hay una distancia que los separa
Son muchas las ganas de sentir la piel
A lo lejos un reloj da sus doce campanadas
Les recuerda que el tiempo ha pasado y no hay nada más qué hacer.


Ella frágil y asustada
Él audaz y temeroso
Ambos con un solo deseo en el alma
Pero con la certeza más triste de lo que no puede ser.







Carmen Pacheco
@Erotismo10
3 de agosto del 2017




miércoles, 2 de agosto de 2017

QUÉDATE CON TUS BESOS, CARICIAS Y ESPACIO...





Me pediste espacio y te lo di.

Sugeriste distancia y la otorgué.

Represaste los besos y lo entendí.

Las caricias volaron y lo pensé.


Hoy tengo mi espacio para ser.

La distancia la disfruto a mi antojo.

Los besos, estoy segura que los probaré en otra boca.

Tus caricias despertaron células que no sabía de su existencia.

Pero que ahora revolotean, cual mariposas sedientas.

Así que tu espacio, distancia, besos y caricias.

Pueden seguir escondidos en tu desván.

Yo ya no los quiero más…








Carmen Pacheco
@Erotismo10
2 de agosto de 2017








martes, 9 de agosto de 2016

UNA SILUETA BAJO MIS SÁBANAS...




Me encuentro en esos días de fogosidad literaria y recostada en mi cama, lo veo respirar plácidamente. – Su aliento se escapa por entre sus abiertos labios y es una especie de calidez pegajosa, que incita a saborearla. Es un aroma como aquellos dulces que le llamábamos “Melcocha” y que dejaban siempre la sensación de querer seguir estirándose, hasta alargarlos en toda su extensión, dejando al aire su dulce y aromática tersura.

Su pequeña barba  bordea esos labios, tan deseados. Le dan un aspecto de hombre de letras, de esos que subyugan con su profundidad de ideas y verborrea. Me excitan las mentes brillantes.


No puedo dejar de observarlo. Siento que, no solamente mi cama ha sido abordada, con piratas en plena alta mar. Mi alma se alegra de que ese ser de las mil facetas, haya logrado asaltar esa solitaria extensión, cuando mi tripulación había desestimado la perseverancia de tan arrojado ser.


Días atrás, en mi alcoba no se respiraba otro tipo de olor, que no fuese el de la persona que, día a día, lo ocupaba. Sólo, algunas veces podía percibir el aroma de los silencios y de la atractiva pero maléfica Soledad.


Puedo hacer una retrospectiva, muy reciente de dos semanas, por ejemplo y al unirla a la de este momento, cuando observo el movimiento acompasado de su respiración, me indica que no estoy sola. Puedo ver cómo se va transformando o mejor dicho, cómo se va rellenando, una parte de la sábana que cubre este desnudo y deseoso cuerpo. 


Ante mis ojos se manifiesta una forma de nacimiento a mi lado. No me da miedo, solo es incredulidad al ver cómo emerge por debajo de la sábana la forma de una persona. 


Si pudiéramos unir esos dos tiempos  podríamos hacer una buena secuencia desde la soledad hacia la locura más grande y sentir ese cuerpo caliente, que hoy ocupa el otro lado de la cama.


El anhelo ha sido abrigado. Sus manos rodean ese ser sintiendo su temperatura afiebrado y jadeante, con una multiplicidad de sensaciones y sentimientos. Su voz ronca, aunque anda con un poquito de gripe, me suena como el gato que siempre quise tener ronroneándose en mis oídos.


Su boca, al fin ha probado el néctar, que permanecía, en plena maceración y que, según su catador, está en el punto ideal para su degustación. El tiempo ha sido benévolo con mis esencias y las ha mantenido jugosas para mi sibarita especial.


Muy quedo me ha dicho, que mantengo mis curvas y la tenacidad en mi cuerpo. Qué están en el punto perfecto para sus apetencias y deseos. Mi ego de mujer se dispara, cual cohete al viento. No hay nada mejor, cuando un hombre enciende, de esa forma, las ganas de galopear sabana adentro, a una mujer. No existen límites para ensillarlo y demostrarle, lo lejos que se puede llegar, con ella. ¡Dios! mi mente se desnuda y aparece la trovadora, la amante, la puta, la amiga, la compinche, la loba hambrienta y sedienta de amor.


Mi alma se ha vestido, con ropa de campo. Mis pies permanecen descalzos manteniendo el contacto con la suavidad del monte y la humedad de la tierra. Con el olor a flores silvestres estoy lista para lanzarme a todo galope sobre ese caballo brioso y fuerte, que me llevará a seguir disfrutando de la belleza de la vida.


El sol ilumina mi rostro, mientras, una suave brisa, se cuela por los rizos de mis cabellos, que orgullosa agitan mi melena encanecida. ¡Toda yo soy vida, todo Él es mi vida!


Carmen Pacheco
@Erotismo10
9 de agosto del 2016