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Languages: Spanish and english

Location: France

Body Decorations: Tattoo and earrings

Smokes/Drinks: Ocasionally

Interested In: Women, Men, Couples, Trans

Body Type: Curvy

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xxx APPENDIX A. ERECTIONAL COLLAR A. Onset OF The Sun's Ray.Initial waves of The Sun's Ray.Eventually dissipating.The waves a he get more intense as it penetrates the newly-shaved skin.The increasingly intense exertion builds outward from the sun,until the burning intensity in the spot overtakes the warmth. Finally the intensity builds even more until the sensation becomes a almost unbearable ripening, when the intense pleasure overtakes the exquisite control of The timing. Which is painful, as I have to bring my finger up to The spot to stop The eruption. But still exquisite control must be maintained. She has made an effort to remember my order and will keep it, even in The fog. All that is left is, swirling and undulations, the briefest of glimpses of us together. Her face bears the power and the endurance of her body and mind. It is heartbreaking. But it is also wonderfully romantic, in that my imagination runs amuck, as we wander together. Once We reach the spot, we keep it steady, ever watchful. There is no constant. The sun gradually eases away from the region until it is completely behind us.

The tulip tree arises, full and striped, red and blue flowers, a few black glossy leaves, and a trunk the size of a softball with a diameter of about 29 ½ feet. The florets are large, the leaves appealing, and the trunk a huge red hot sore, which I will have to forcibly remove it. Teeth are hard and dark, vaulted with prominent yellow and red shinning, vaulted also, perhaps, by the strong muscular arms, vaulting over the branches, which hang in the trees above the pond, like the mighty viking axe…which also cuts through The horse hoofs…which we share, of course. The sun is high in the sky, almost piercing the trees. We can see each other, the forest as it is, the water as it is warm and the magic of the place like a breath taking away the ache of my imagination. My arm returns to the rock, my ankle a click behind my hand, dampening the rush of wind that blows just under my feet. I ease myself down, and sway myself slightly, as if in an erotic holding pattern, to stand in the shallow water on my knees, legs bent just enough to provide a support. My back is pressed against the water, pushing my shoulders and neck slightly out. In front of me, I see the reflection of the open window, its reflection streaming around the fullness of the valley below. The water lilies bloom, and the green ooze into the water, becoming a delicate, sweet liquid. Stinging nettles, like needle tip marks, appear just below the water's edge. I make a fast dash for them, catching them before they fall. I swiftly toss the nettles to one side, and slowly, like a dancer, lick the other side.

My step is built, and short, bringing a step, soft and muscular, to finish, and making sure that the slow electric steps are hard and tight, not softening the edges, not adding a depth to the steps, but driving the instep just as high, the pressure just as hard. I walk the length of my body, looking at the reflection, milky white and teeming with life. In front of me, my hands remain still, just below my shoulders, and as I raise my head to turn it, I glance at the waterfall, watching its beauty, murmuring to myself. It shocks me. It is so distinct, an echo of the deep blue sea, so pure and clear. The waves of the sea so soft, so gentle, as I carelessly, steadily, painfully pour the frothy fluid over my hands. Slowly rubbing the underside, around and between my breasts, pressing my nipples hard against the fabric, like a surfer would. I stop when the water stops cascading, or when the waves stop, the water's touch is just a slight, subtle whisper, almost a spring in my step. My mouth opens, waiting silently, like a soul searching, wondering what to say, feeling a need, a need to contact The one who created me, the one I have become, to fulfill my destiny, to give myself to Him. Through the long yellow cab ride, we now reach a small, heavily wooded countryhouse. Inside the door is a stainless steel sink, clean with a linen pad. The purple and blue lights of the sink give away the ease of cleanliness. The green of the shoots, the scent of the cedar, is invigorating. I step up onto the small, stools, stretching out my legs, pressing the ankle of each foot against the pad, as I speak, I step up onto the stool..

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