She went through it all carefully. Clearly it wasn’t magical and it didn’t fit with any of the oddball theories like phrenism or phrenology, she f...lt around her head but decided that there were no bumps that she could feel. Extra Sensory Perception then? She thought not, but it was a possibility. Teleporting? Ridiculous! Could it possibly be a form of autism? Unlikely she thought, surely someone would have diagnosed her at some time although she really didn’t know that much about it. But she’d. I was awed and speechless but not surprised – nothing Tamsin did these days surprised me. I had known her for three months and she would constantly reinvent herself. Whether she did it for me or to fill some inner need in her, I don’t know but I was just glad to be along for the ride. I looked down her exquisite body. Every inch of her was pure poetry. She wore what appeared to be a length of white cotton cloth draped elegantly around one shoulder and leaving one of her magnificent. A sudden tightening, the possessive clasping of molten depths, pulsates around my swollen length. Hips not holding back,riding with all the force you can summon. You're whispering now, every word saturated in moans.Telling me to finish inside you. To tremble and explode as I brand you with my seed. The storm breaks and we reel over the edge, as you flood and clench around me.With one final thrust upwards, my entire body stills as I erupt in what seems like endless thick hot ropes rocketing deep. It’s the one praise that is often used to describe my work, whether positively or not. ‘My essays can be pretty passionate!’ ‘Yes,’ you explained, patiently. I marveled at his ability at keeping an even tone in face at this outburst. ‘But it’s not emotional. You don’t inject you in it. You bring an issue, you explain so bloody logically why or why not, you show your passion, but it’s not… you,’ you finished baldly. ‘And what about my poems?’ I asked quietly. My heated emotion that momentarily.
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