Sin título

Marketa Stroblova

A relaxing read

Nice bushy bushy

She will never come to tear down the shaggy structure that cloaks her intimacy, as she tucks her arms and legs in. Everything will remain there, like those romantic ruins where languid beings count the time—the time of unrestrained pleasure.

Like a Japanese garden, she lets the dark pebbles roll between the rocks of her thighs, and the sage observes the false calm of the landscape, where only an intangible breeze of desire stirs the scene.

The geometry of its form stirs the schoolboy’s curiosity; here, the cylinder offers a taste of its nectar, in contrast to the massive inverted pyramid, from which a sublime nectar secretly flows.