The ancient game.  Elemental and powerful.  Fluid and graceful.

To find a woman.  To watch her.  Move towards her.  Penetrate her.  Tear her apart.  To devastate her.

This is the old way of doing things.  Power wielded with brutal selfishness.

But there is another.

And it lies in paradox.


To find a woman.  But not just any woman.  One who is firm, graceful and passionate.  She knows the game, the same paradox.

To watch a woman.  Because it is intriguing.  There is a lightness, a lightfulness, a seductiveness.  I cannot take my eyes away.

To move towards her.  Being drawn to her energy.  I am compelled.  I am forced by a power beyond my own.

To penetrate her.  Rapture her fantasies with compelling presence.  Engaging her mind.  Reflecting the intrigue she stirs in me.

To tear her apart.  The eternal game.  Strained to the sinews, between longing and anticipation.  Bones burn inside the heat.

And to devastate her.  Losing my own mind inside her.  Lost in the blinding light, melting in mutual fires.


Of conquest, and seduction.


She already has done it to me.

There is the paradox.