Fans di Gia

Probably would not say it, but you invite visitors, adults, who warned, they decided to enter this blog, do not misunderstand the meaning of the contents therein, which are only fantasy if literary, and fiction or if photos or videos, and therefore, have nothing to do with the reality that, fortunately, is another matter entirely.

Sunday, 13 March 2016


Look inside the lesbian erotic novel
FROM GIA’S HAT Act 1°: Scent of Female
Kindle and E-pub format, 
reading on the iPhone, Blackberry, iPad, Android, Desktop.

…. I was deeply in love with her, and she of me; I remember once we had to stay away one of another for a period, so we began to chat in the web. At the time, we were not equipped to do so even with the webcam, and I still remember, one by one, the words that I wrote, with which confided my most secret instincts to her: with those, I wanted to make her understand that we had other heavens to explore. What I wrote had as its object, “YOU”...
YOU, Angela, you’re my path, you’re my adventure that is renewed every day; you’re my endless journey around the world: YOU, you’re my world! If the voyage of life has for all a unique destination, well, is not the one that counts; are the intermediate stages to make a difference. YOU, you’re the only way that matters to me.
How pleasant is discover and rediscover YOU: every time, YOU surprise me. Today, however, I will not speak of your soul, even though it tenderizes me, attracts and fascinates me, my love. For once, I think to YOU in your palpable, tangible entity; to sing the praises of your, from me, revered body of the young female. I want to express the extraordinary wonder that catches me every time that YOU, my love, allow me to travel inside YOU and with YOU.
I don’t need your voice when, with your smiling and sparkling eyes just like two big Suns, silent and still unequivocally, YOU invite me. When YOU do it, I’m taken by an infinite joy but also by a tremor, and then, for the uncertain emotion that overwhelms me and shakes my soul, I would take total possession of YOU. But I touch YOU barely, and I look at YOU. YOU are handsome, my love, the most beautiful, for me.
Your body, then, appears to me to be, at the same time, the start, the route and the destination of the journey that YOU always allow to me to start. Your lips that kiss me and which I kiss with passion, burn like volcanoes on the verge of exploding. Your throat seems a long, endless, comforting path, along which my mouth goes back from your willowy and graceful neck, to the little and gracious ear, where I can finally pour the vocal expression, unintelligible, but unequivocally clear, of my lust for you.
And what can I say about your skin which smells of the countryside dewy, my love? Slipping gently, excited, my lips run along to the infinite expanse of your back, enumerating, one by one, the sweet protruding bumps that divide it in its middle; those, are the strings of the violin that I like pinching, with my teeth, to bring YOU, to vibrate and tremble. And your belly, my love? See your tummy, smooth and flat as a parade ground, with a delightful tiny basin in the middle, whose image, at its end, is culminating in the rolling hills drawn from your breasts, well, all this fills me with divine ecstasy. That is the vision of paradise that is shown to my eyes turned to yours, when I find myself, radiant, kneeling before YOU, that you’re languidly abandoned to me. Therefore, it’s imperative for me to be humble and kneeling between the long legs of my Goddess, with my head buried between her thighs, to adore her, to quench my insatiable thirst to the generous, hot, source of her lush womb.
Before continuing my never-ending trip around the joy that you are, it is reassuring, for me, to rest on those gentle, loving, filled hills that some impious unworthily call “buttocks”, which instead are the offshoots of the hidden paradise. I like to immerse my face in the deep valley that separates them, lush and mysterious; and I like to fill my lungs with the exciting scent of undergrowth that dwells there.
With this image of YOU in my mind, I dream which YOU, maliciously abandoned, YOU rotate yourself to the side, offering me the new, charming and harmonious vision of the profile showing your sides between the top of the shoulder and buttocks: I imagine my hand sliding, light and happy, on YOU, then get off from the declivity and take possession of your exciting smoothness and your reassuring softness. Your warmth, my love, it inflames my flesh as well as my heart.
A little perversely, I kiss YOU and I bite YOU in the middle of your back: YOU turn to look at me, my life: was that which I expected! I’m confused, excited, and almost distraught by YOU, by your grace and beauty. Your full breasts, to which often I come back to ignite even more my thirst for YOU, appear like sweet and flourishing hills from which I can descend to take refuge in the comforting curve of your hairless armpits which, long, I kiss, whose scent ravishes me always. Especially when YOU, turned on for the fatigues of the love, from them emerges the fragrant dew, and above all, when YOU are sweaty, my love.
When YOU look at me with your arms raised, with your fingers that run through your hair, the sweet and harmonious siding of your breasts with her armpits gives me a thrill incomparable. With my eyes, little by little and with infinite slowness, I explore your image, reaching to that other your obscure declivity. I stop myself, though; I do it to recover myself from the emotion that, once again, takes me, and that, my journey, made it unstoppable, my soul. I know that, sometimes, YOU are pleasantly perverse, my love, I know! I know that, again, YOU can kill me due to the desire: but I will not touch YOU, not now at least.
On that bed that is so lucky to receive your warm flesh, you rotate on yourself, and then, kneeling, you look at me: in contemplation of your torso... of your udders which, free, proud and winning to defy gravity, I lose myself! Provocative, you insist on looking at me in the eyes, and then you bend over by leaning your palms on black sheets: you insist on being perfidious. Love! I repeated it to YOU infinite times: YOU know how hard it is for me to resist the urge to milk your breasts pendulous that, by oscillating slowly, it shows your flesh that shakes itself. In the position that cruelly you have wanted to take, your udders are too licentious and attractive to my hands and mouth. YOU did this with the sole intent, merciless, to make me desist from my chaste purpose. However, once again, I will resist, my love.
My eyes must turn away to trick my desire! Then, I linger on YOU, on your shoulders, on the gentle curve of the back, your buttocks, but later, inexorably, my eyes go back there, and they stop, ecstatic, on the turreted and swollen prominences of flesh adorning your breasts. Love: YOU are ruthless! Inviting and beautiful as seductive and shameless, having understood that I set out to not to have YOU, YOU provoke me!
Before my eyes, inevitably, returns the image of that time at home; do you remember? It was hot, and they warned us that it would be left off the water supply very soon. So we filled the basin full of water so that we could have an abundant supply of it. YOU, so beautiful, your naked body, YOU went near the basin full of water, and YOU, folded, you get to refresh your breasts; YOU wanted to take away that sweat that decorated your skin: YOU were too beautiful! I remember the excitement that I got: it was overwhelming. I walked silent, speechless with emotion, and, like a rapist ready to take YOU, I leaned on YOU: as it was exciting to feel the touch of her warm buttocks against my belly on fire. As a Marauder, my hands went to your breasts soft and pendulous, to caress and to tighten them Love: never, I’ll forgive YOU for not letting to my tongue the pleasant task to wipe YOU from the odorous fluid that made glossy and bright your skin; even then, YOU have been perverse: YOU well know how much I love the smell and taste of your sweat. My hands, cupped, wrapped around your udders as if to protect them from myself, YOU understood what has been the irrepressible impulse that took me, and YOU have been tolerant and tender for allowing me to have YOU, to seize your comforting intimacy.
My love, that figuration carved in my heart as in my senses, it slowly dissolves, to give place to another: the image of YOU that look me in the eyes, those who read my turmoil, those who, finally, show me to understand that you’re hurting me. Just before that my chaste intent to enjoy YOU only with the eyes is undone, YOU, lascivious, adages yourself back on the bed, with your back against the headboard, the arms extended and the hands folded behind the neck.  With the legs slightly spread and raised, knees bent, YOU look at me again in the eye in a loving and provocative challenge: this yours, is a silent and irresistible invitation to explore your mysterious dark forest, a harbinger of overwhelming emotions: It’s not fair! YOU do it on purpose, and it does not escape me what seems to be, but it is not, a paradox: YOU want me to hate YOU for then love YOU even more. Your challenge, I accept it, my love; for then resume my journey with renewed determination not to surrender.
Reminiscent, your image appears to me when, with your smiling and shining eyes like two stars of the firmament, YOU invite me: while I walk, with inexhaustible eagerness, the surrounding streets that lead to the depths of your womb, I remember losing myself. You, my heart, without reserve, and generous as you are, you’ve given me the keys of those inputs hidden in the mysterious and fragrant deep of your canyon. And I feel blessed for the privilege: I know very well how YOU can foreclose entry to that paradise, even only to the eyes of those who do not deserve YOU. still and motionless, your eyes can become ice when they want, and your long legs closed and crossed, block each your door.
And how is sacrosanct that it is, I adore YOU, my love, I worship YOU as a god, and never, I’m tired of wandering incessantly along your paths that, through the delirium, leads me to a state of grace that joins me to YOU: because are YOU the grace. I love them both those paths, my love: one, lush rainforest from which I draw the heartbeat of my life, the other... trembling, quivering, and together, arduous opening that, flattered and pampered, it becomes capable of restoring the most unspeakable gratifications.
I want to say it to YOU, love: what I like most of YOU, besides your body and your soul, it’s your total generosity in giving yourself to me, in guessing, with just a look, my instincts, my desires for YOU. Never an expression of listlessness, boredom or endurance: always patient, friendly and smiling, your eyes, deep as the sea, aware of my greed and my hunger, invite me to the table of your flesh. Love YOU is something very enormous, my soul, which it can only be done, but not told.
Back again, very potent in my remembrance, the memory of that time when, on vacation, YOU, very saucy, YOU left the bathroom door open intentionally. Through the mirror I watched YOU, and YOU appeared to me charming. Sitting on the old yellowed cup, the chest proudly erect, your hands resting on your thighs slightly widened, YOU looked at me provocatively. And YOU smiled at me simpering, while, deliciously immoral, YOU went pouring the clear and slightly amber essence out of your body. I remember that, troubled as never before, I witnessed enchanted and silent by the emotion: the Argentine music of the limpid little brook and slightly amber that flowed from your source, well, all this, ensnared me to death.
Oh, how I wished that it was my mouth to turn into that lucky cup, with the aim to taste the flavor of that golden fluid that had the privilege of being generated by that body that I love so much. Then, by the grace of always, YOU returned to stand up, and YOU did to take a cloth to dry yourself. I remember that, impulsively, I haven’t allowed YOU to do it, love. Certainly: that plebeian cloth was not worthy of YOU. It was then that I found the courage to enter, and to come near YOU. And YOU, not at all surprised, amused and maliciously lascivious, YOU looked at me: YOU were not at all embarrassed. Excited as ever, without uttering a word, I knelt in front of my Goddess and, religiously, my mouth, for the first time, took possession with the greed of your last sacred drops: love, don’t do it anymore! I alone, and only I, I have this right. I am the deputed cup to collect your ambrosia. I am the custodian of all your fluids. Don’t do this wrong to me again, my love:  Let me worship YOU as your beauty deserves, my Goddess.
Your body to me is earth; your warmth for me is fire: this time, YOU became even water. YOU are the origin; YOU, the path; YOU are the goal of life: of my life.
In the end, I concluded…
«Now, love, words are no longer enough. Come to me, my love; and finally, you have to bring me to ecstasy. You have sparked a feeding frenzy in me, which cannot wait any longer».
Distant from each other as we were, of course, this was not possible. I remember that after having read my letter, in real time, Angela replied…
«My love, with those memories, that so vividly you brought to my mind, you excited me in a powerful way! You have also opened new windows in my heart that, in reading your letter, it exploded: knowing your innermost desires sparked mine... and my hands are traveling on my body, imagining that they’re yours. I’m still stroking myself, my love. Come on, please, now you too you too must to caress yourself: I want to travel with you, to finally rejoin with you, if not in the flesh, at least in the time of the orgasm».
At that time, they also flew many emails, and each time, it was beautiful and satisfying: after all that was the only way to be together. One day, unexpectedly, but not so much, she asked me: «It’s true? Would you like my pee on you? And, would you like also drink it… my pee? Or is it just a “poetic outburst” from your part to stir me even more, Gia?».
I replied: «Love, if my greatest desire is to be embraced by you and, in whatever way it is, to have you, all, inside me, what sense would itemize the “how”?». That was not a thing to be scheduled by e-mail: if this had happened, it would have been a spontaneous motion, induced by the passion..(Continues in the novel).

No comments:

Post a Comment

Mi piacerebbe sapere cosa ne pensi.