Saturday, June 10, 2017

High Meditation Magic-Sex of the Ancients - Intimate Holy Explosion


.... 1:11 a.m., the success of my last meditation ripped the righteous veil aside. Churning the lesser particulates,...passing the matter scale -passionate whiplash across my shell of hollow.

Beyond millions, the grains purify like a fire of fury fervently flaying for flickering of fluttering fleeting...forward favorably, fluidly, flaccidly.....I am fully found.

If the "pre-trip experience" were a way to whisper into your spark, "Combustion," the sea-foam explosion of your yonder self would shimmer and shake and spin and twist, the greater the flick of the tongue than the wrist; Breathing my "Ka" -if you spoke naked mystical French, you would say, "Ooo la la, la la."

In the distance, I saw myself naked, sweating, and laying under a palm tree with all my palms open, and laid wickedly a-splay the fortune of seeing myself exposed, excited the magic of your day -fire.

Churn and burn, you teach me to yearn and seek not the "sidhi" for I should lay you in the bed of infinite world sands, and anoint you with myrrh, mind, and sweet milk tasting...honey.

Really, it was the romance of your endless....vitality. The way you charge the beat in my chest by thrusting all moments into a vibratory frenzy, collapsing above, below, behind, and in front of you.

Watching all of you undulating under every color of light, the texture of your delights takes me again, and again; oh, what a wonderfully wicked game you play -scream and write my name...with your deliverance.

The song played as if we were speakers. Wind playing us as sexual violins tuned to the "key of X". Every time you speak, I couldn't help but moan as your rapture made all of my being pour with elated, violent jerks of immediate, electrifying soul modulation.

Oh, you're the right one -of infinite incarnations. Let me know you in every whimsy, as we...ramble with the throws of craving, our mouths eager to fill, devour, and pray with our feather tongues.

You make every point of my body feel like infinite stars desiring to explode, again, and again, and again.

It's no big deal as it is of no consequence. We both ride the high, the ass, and thigh of the Golden Dragon.

Throwing me down, and kissing my face with wreckless whisper, "Your long infinite golden explosion drips from my mouth."

...1:44 a.m., sweaty, rough-ridden, heavy beating heart; sitting in a steaming pool -my hands your hands, my body your body, my lips...oh my lips...oh my god my lips...your lips on fire, quivering forever.
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