#pas de danse

[mega-adam-blr]

De tout, il resta trois choses: La certitude que tout était en train de commencer, la certitude qu'il fallait continuer, la certitude que cela serait interrompu avant que d'être terminé. Faire de l'interruption, un nouveau chemin, faire de la chute, un pas de danse, faire de la peur, un escalier, du rêve, un pont, de la recherche... une rencontre.

Fernando Pessoa

#certitude de commencer #certitude de continuer #certitude d'interrompre #nouveau chemin #pas de danse #nouveau rencontre

[leseigneurdufeu]

French side of tumblr écoutez bien. Une série de fanfics avec un film de Louis de Funès mais tous les personnages sont d'un autre fandom. Genre Hibernatus x Avatar: the last airbender.

Je veux dire, vous pouvez pas m'arrêter de toute façon, je vais sans doute le faire. Mais vous en pensez quoi ?

#ozai secouant aang : vous êtes le grand père de votre mère c'est-à-dire de ma femme et #elle s'appelle pas [nom d'airbender] elle s'appelle Ursa. ursa. ursa. ursa. elle s'appelle ursa. *petite danse* #ok le crossover marcherait pour deux raisons : l'iceberg (l'amnésie est expliquée par le fait qu'il n'a pas accès à ses vies antérieures) #ET rendre ozai dingue

[ashfdhfgdsfk]

oh thunderous classical music how i want to eat and be eaten by you

#tchaikovsky's nutcracker pas de deux ohhh how i love you #an der shönen blaeun donau op. 314 my absolute beloved #camille saint saëns' danse macabre theeee loml #dmitri shostakovich's waltz no. 2 my lovely carnival husband #aram khachaturian's masquerade suite waltz you dazzling beast #antonio vivaldi's winter you absolute frantic little god #johannes brahms' hungarian dance no. 5 you funky bitch <3 #tchaikovsky's piano concerto no.1 in b flat minor girl bossing #serenade for strings in e major op. 22 tempo di valse bby girl you are full of so much despair and budding hope #prokofiev's romeo and juliet dance of the knights op. 64 you are so stomping and your dick is huge #cannot leave out in the hall of the mountain king that ones just iconic #the kind of music that just requires full blast volume #just absolute bangers #having a moment rn im feeling so epic im ngl #txt #also ik some of these are in the romantic music category but classical is classical etc

[a-room-of-my-own]

Je sais pas si vous avez suivi la « polémique » du festival d’Avignon, il faut croire que certaines personnes n’ont jamais vu de création contemporaine.

#je suis plus danse perso #mais j’ai vu trop de #Jan Fabre et Maguy Marin #pour être choquée par quoi que ce soit #tant que quelqu’un ne se roule pas dans l’huile d’olive tout en étant recouvert d’huile d’olive sur une musique de claquements de porte #on est bons je crois #bref

[etsicetaitmavie]

MEILLEURE NOUVELLE DEPUIS BIEN TROP LONGTEMPS AU BOULOT : la folle qui m'a crié dessus sans aucune réaction de ma directrice VIENT DE POSER SA DÉMISSION

#je ferais bien la danse de la joie #mais je peux pas là #mais putain à l'intérieur je la fais

[mintytrifecta]

I think everyone deserves to be just a little bit obsessed with a random specific piece of classical music

#Nutcracker pas de deux and rhapsody of a theme of Paganini make me want to BITE SOMETHING AND SCREAM AND WAIL AND GO INSANE #And Hungarian Rhapsody no. 2 cause haha funny animation reference #Danse macabre is also a good one fuckin love that one #OH OH NEPTUNE FROM THE PLANETS SUITE ITS SO CREEPY I LOVE IT #I know I'm saying a lot of very famous ones but sue me they're good pieces #Its not really c l a s s i c a l but Olympia's aria from tales of Hoffman is awesome if you haven't seen Rachel Gilmore's performance of it #Go watch it now #I could keep going honestly cndnskkfjfjs

[thejoyofviolentmovement]

New Video: JOVM Mainstay Laure Briard Shares '70s-Inspired "The Smell of Your Hair"

New Video: JOVM Mainstay Laure Briard Shares '70s-Inspired "The Smell of Your Hair" @laure_briard @MidnightSpecRec @clandestinenyc

Laure Briard is a Toulouse, France-based singer/songwriter, who has a had a highly uncommon path to professional music. Briard bounced around several different interests and passions for some time: She studied literature and criminology and even acted a bit, before concentrating on music full-time in 2013. After the release of her debut EP, 2013’s Laure Briard chante la France, Briard met Juilen…

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#Benjamin Marius Petit #Boogains #indie pop #Julien Gasc #Laure Briard #Laure Briard Coração Louco #Laure Briard Coração Louco EP #Laure Briard En Voo EP #Laure Briard Laure Briard chante la France #Laure Briard Ne pas trop rester bleue #Laure Briard Révélation #Laure Briard Sur la Piste de Danse #Laure Briard The Smell of Your Hair #Laure Briard Un peu plus d&039;amour s&039;il vous plaît #Midnight Special Records #music #music video #New Video #singer/songwriter \ #The Smell of Your Hair #Toulouse France #video #Video Review #Video Review: Laure Briard The Smell of Your Hair #Video Review: The Smell of Your Hair #women who kick ass #world music

[zellkabellk]

absolument fasciné'e par le remix techno de vois sur ton chemin. merci pour la découverte je vais l'avoir en boucle toute l'aprem?? trop hâte de le faire écouter à d'autres gens omg

Wah, très contente que tu l'aimes ! Je suis tombée par hasard dessus (merci spotify discovery quand les étoiles s'alignent) et depuis j'y retourne constemment... J'espère que tes potes vont apprécier aussi 👀🙏 Et bonne journée à toi !!

#le jour où je l'ai trouvée je l'ai écoutée toute la journée au taff en fond haha #j'aime aussi pas mal son remix de “Dernière Danse” de Indila ! #moins que vois sur ton chemin mais ça fait une très bonne autre piste avec laquelle alterner #ask #beary ask #watchingforcomets

[dar-khmissa-riad-et-spa]

La 3ème édition de L’automnale de Marrakech

Marrakech Du 10 au 19 Novembre 2023 La 3ème édition de L’automnale de Marrakech qui aura lieu du 10 au 19 Novembre 2023 est un évènement culturel et artistique qui se veut partie intégrante de l’identité marocaine multidimensionnelle qui plonge ses racines dans différentesinfluences culturelles ancestrales.En s’adressant à un public national et international, L’Automnale de Marrakech à pour…

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#blog #L&039;automnale de Marrakech #l&039;écriture #la calligraphie #la danse #la peinture #la poésie #le cinéma #les chants #Maroc #Marrakech #patrimoine #riad #riad dar khmissa marrakech #riad marrakech #Riad Pas Cher Marrakech #travel #vacances

[dixvinsblog]

Marie Vigneron - Comme un pas de danse

Marie Vigneron – Comme un pas de danse

Peut-on ignorerla puissance du plaisirL’accouplement foude l’espoir et du désiret la tendresse légèrecomme un pas de dansele baiser à peine ébauchésur les lèvresreste silencieuxl’eau couleet s’accroche aux larmescomme une pièce d’orun morceau de soleils’est épris des hommes

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#Marie Vigneron - Comme un pas de danse - désir - danse larmes soleil

[au-jardin-de-mon-coeur]

Magnifique danse poétique sur l'enfant intérieur...

"Nous devons écouter l'enfant que nous étions autrefois, l'enfant qui existe toujours à l'intérieur de nous. Cet enfant comprend les moments magiques. Nous pouvons étouffer ses cris, mais nous ne pouvons pas faire taire sa voix."

Paulo Coelho

[onlyonetifosi]

Behind the camera: chapter 1

<- previous series masterlist my main masterlist next ->

It was a warm summer afternoon in the small town of Monte Carlo, Monaco, where the Leclerc family resided. Yn and Charles, just three years old, were playing in their backyard, their laughter echoing through the air. Despite being twins, Yn and Charles had their distinct personalities and looks, yet they shared an unbreakable bond

"Charles, catch me if you can!" Yn giggled, running around the garden, her little feet barely keeping up with her enthusiasm

"Attends, Yn! I'm coming!" Charles called back, his eyes shining with excitement as he chased after his sister

Their playtime was always filled with joy and mischief, and today was no exception. Their older brother, Lorenzo, joined in the fun

"Lorenzo, regarde! Look at me!" Yn shouted as she tried to perform a somersault. "Je peux le faire! I can do it!"

Lorenzo clapped his hands, "Wow, Yn! That was great!"

Charles, feeling a little competitive, decided to show off too. "Watch this! Je vais faire un saut en hauteur! I'm going to do a high jump!"

Yn and Lorenzo watched in awe as Charles jumped, trying to touch the lowest branch of a nearby tree. He didn't quite reach it, but his attempt was still impressive.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the following weeks, Yn attended her ballet classes with enthusiasm, and her love for dancing only grew. Charles, on the other hand, developed an interest in racing from a young age. Hervé, a racing enthusiast himself, couldn't be happier to see his son's passion for speed and cars. He gifted Charles a small toy race car, which quickly became his most treasured possession

"Maman, look what I can do!" Yn twirled around clumsily, trying her best to imitate the graceful movements she had seen on TV. Her parents smiled lovingly, encouraging her tiny attempt at ballet

"Très bien, ma chérie! You're doing great," her mother praised, clapping her hands. "You'll be a wonderful little ballerina!"

"Charles, you should try too!" Yn beamed, hoping her brother would join in her enthusiasm for ballet.

Charles laughed and shook his head. "No, no, Yn. I want to be a race car driver like Papa! Vroom vroom!" He pretended to steer an imaginary car, and Lorenzo enthusiastically joined in the play

Pascale and Hervé watched their daughter with pride, celebrating every little step she took in her ballet journey. However, Yn's clumsiness soon caught the attention of the other girls in her ballet class, who began to tease and make fun of her

"Regardez-la, elle danse comme un éléphant maladroit! (Look at her, she dances like a clumsy elephant!)" one of the girls mocked, causing the others to giggle.

Yn felt her enthusiasm waning, her heart heavy with sadness. She couldn't understand why the other girls were mean to her, but she was determined not to let their words discourage her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the twins grew older, they started kindergarten, and Yn was excited to embark on this new adventure with her brother. However, things didn't go as smoothly as she had hoped. Charles, being the more outgoing and confident of the two, quickly made friends with the other children, while Yn struggled to connect with her peers

One day, after a particularly challenging day at school, Yn came home feeling downcast. She sat at the kitchen table with her parents, sharing her feelings

"Maman, Papa, pourquoi est-ce que Charles a toujours des amis, et moi, je n'en ai pas?" (Mom, Dad, why does Charles always have friends, and I don't?) Yn asked tearfully

Her parents exchanged understanding glances, and her father pulled her into a comforting hug. "Ne t'inquiète pas, ma chérie. Les amis viendront avec le temps. Tu es spéciale, tout comme ton frère." (Don't worry, my dear. Friends will come with time. You're special, just like your brother)

Yn nodded, trying to hold back her tears. She wished she could be as confident and popular as Charles, but it seemed like an impossible task

Months passed, and Yn tried her best to keep her feelings buried, not wanting to upset her brother or their parents. But one day, the weight of it all became too much to bear. Unable to hold back any longer, Yn confronted Charles during their walk home from school

"Charles, tu ne comprends pas. C'est difficile pour moi. Les autres se moquent de moi et je n'ai pas d'amis" she finally confessed, her voice quivering with emotion. (Charles, you don't understand. It's hard for me. The others make fun of me, and I have no friends)

Charles stopped in his tracks, finally seeing the pain in his sister's eyes that he had been blind to for so long "Je suis désolé, Yn. Je ne savais pas) he said, feeling regretful (I'm sorry, Yn. I didn't know)

They sat down on a nearby bench, and Yn poured her heart out to Charles about the loneliness she had been enduring. Charles listened attentively, his heart aching for his sister. He realized how selfish he had been, caught up in his own excitement without noticing the pain she was going through.

"Je suis vraiment désolé, Yn. Je ne voulais pas te faire du mal. Je serai là pour toi, quoi qu'il arrive" Charles said, his eyes filled with sincerity. (I'm truly sorry, Yn. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll be there for you, no matter what happens)

Tears welled up in Yn's eyes as she hugged her brother tightly “Merci, Charles. Je t'aime” she whispered, feeling a rush of relief (Thank you, Charles. I love you)

From that day on, Charles made a conscious effort to include Yn in his circle of friends, and the two became inseparable. Yn also found solace in pursuing other hobbies and interests, such as drawing and storytelling, where her creativity and uniqueness were celebrated.

Their relationship grew stronger as they navigated through childhood together. Their parents often marveled at how inseparable they were, and even though they had their fair share of fights, their bond only deepened with time.

#behind the camera fic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x sister!reader #arthur leclerc imagine #arthur leclerc x sister!reader #f1 drivers x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f2 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfiction #arthur leclerc

[kilfeur]

Ce que je trouve intéressant est justement pourquoi Anya a décidé de lui révéler qu'elle est télépathe alors qu'elle a toujours gardé ça secret. Dans le chapitre précédent on peut voir que Damian envie les invitations de danse qu'Anya contrairement aux siennes. Et on le voit pendant leur danse, qu'il l'envie à nouveau car elle peut passer du temps avec son père contrairement à lui. Elle sympathise avec lui par leurs amours envers leurs pères et c'est justement ça qui l'a poussé a révélé son secret. Même si au final, il ne la croit pas.

What I find interesting is precisely why Anya decided to reveal to him that she's a telepath when she's always kept it a secret. In the previous chapter we see that Damian envies Anya's dance invitations as opposed to his own. And we see during their dance that he envies her again because she can spend time with her father unlike him. She sympathizes with him because of their love for their fathers, and that's precisely what drove her to reveal her secret. Even if, in the end, he doesn't believe her.

#spy x family #sxf #sxf spoilers #sxf chapter 96 #anya forger #damian desmond #damianya

[thejoyofviolentmovement]

New Audio: Naomi Teams up with Mike Clay on a New Version of Swaggering "Okay Alright"

New Audio: Naomi Teams up with Mike Clay on a New Version of Swaggering "Okay Alright" @heygroover @romainpalmieri @DorianPerron @bravomusique @clayfriendsmtl

Naomi is a rising Montréal-based multi-disciplinary artist, who after studying theater, first made a name for herself when she began to land roles on both the small and big screen by the time she turned 14. She then went on to study dance at École de danse contemporaine de Montréal.  As a dancer, Naomi has appeared in and/or choreographed music videos for Rihanna, Marie-Mai, Cœur de Pirate and…

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#Bravo Msuique #Clay and Friends #Ecole de danse contemporaine de Montréal #electro pop #indie electro pop #indie pop #Montreal QC #Naomi #Naomi Okay Alright #Naomi Okay Alright feat. Mike Clay #Naomi Pas le temps de jouer #Naomi Semblant #New Audio #New Single #Okay Alright feat. Mike Clay #Single Review: Naomi Okay Alright feat. Mike Clay #Single Review: Okay Alright feat. Mike Clay #Thaïs #women who kick ass #world music

[discopaddock]

BIEVRE RIVER - PIERRE GASLY

PAIRING: pierre gasly x fem!reader

GENRE: angst, fluff

NOTE: english isn't my first language so im sorry for any mistakes

WARINGS: sad and heartbroken pierre :(, mentions of crying, google translated french

PART TWO

Pierre never ever had felt in his whole life that ridiculed and betrayed. The love of his life ran away from their wedding, plus with his own cousin. He looked pathetic in front of his friends and family.

It was supposed to be his day, his great day and what? And a dick.

During his great day, he was sitting with tears in his eyes and on face, with McDonald’s and a bottle of Absolut in his hands on the beach by the river Bievre.

He dropped his phone on the floor in the church, probably pulling it down, while he was running away by sacristy with face all in tears.

He had with himself a wallet, bottle of vodka, food, car and Alexander McQueen on himself.

He was feeling woefully, but still he was wealthy and handsome. She didn’t take these from him.

And when he was sitting the next hour, virtually alone on that beach, he heard a voice behind him; small, brokenly and crying a little bit.

“Sorry, mind if I sit here?” Gasly turned around and saw a girl in white shirt and long black skirt with heels and a bottle of wine in one hand and a box from one of the best bakers in Paris in the other. She had red eyes, just like him, which didn’t make him feel better.

“No, no problem” he answered, and she nodded her head in thanks and dropped the shoes on the sand.

“I’m Y/N, by the way” she said, when she finally sat down. Pierre shouldn’t have been ready at that moment for any conversation, but something attracted him to that girl, who just like him had to cry for some reason on that day. So because of that he told her his name. “Sounds nice. What brings you here, Pierre?”

“Ah, putain” he slipped out, when he was thinking for a while in silence. “Ma fiancée s'est enfuie de notre mariage” he said eventually, hoping that she didn’t speak french. Ah, fuck. My fiancée ran away from our wedding.

“Je suis vraiment désolé. Désolé de demander” the girl said quickly, which made Pierre want to hit himself on his forehead. She wasn't stupid. I mean, in his opinion, she didn't look stupid. I’m so sorry. Sorry for asking.

“D'accord. Je suppose que je devais en parler à quelqu'un” he laughed and then took a sip of vodka. “Et qu'est-ce qui vous amène ici?” It’s okay. I guess I had to tell someone. And you, what brings you here?

He was curious. Maybe it was her boyfriend? Or girlfriend. Or completely something else.

“Dure journée de travail” Y/N answered him, looking for something in her bag. A hard day at work.

“Dure journée de travail?” Where do you work?

“A l'Ambassade,” the girl said. In the embassy.

“Alors tu es intelligent” Pierre told, making her laugh. So you are clever.

“J'ai à peine réussi mes examens finaux! Je suis terriblement stupide” she announced and then took a corkscrew out of her purse. I barely graduated! I’m terribly stupid.

Pierre thought that Y/N was cute. Pretty also. Her H/C hair cascaded down her back, and her E/C eyes, freckles on her straight nose, and dimples on both cheeks gave her charm. She definitely wasn’t ugly, that was something he could tell after watching her wrestle with the wine stopper for a while.

“T'aider?” Do you need help?

The girl nodded, then handed him the bottle, taking his vodka from him so that it wouldn't spill.

“Sur quelle chanson étiez-vous censé danser la première danse?” she asked completely out of nowhere, and when she heard the title of Ed Sheeran's most popular song from him, she twisted her mouth in a grimace of disgust. “Oh God! C'est la pire première chanson de danse! Sérieusement? Il n'y en avait pas d'autre?” What song were you supposed to dance your first dance to? This is the worst song for a first dance! Seriously? There was no other?

"Je voulais quelque chose en français, mais elle a choisi Ed," he confessed, pouring wine into the glass she was holding. He had no idea where she got it from, but he liked it. I wanted something in French, but she chose Ed.

“C'est peut-être encore mieux que tu ne l'aies pas épousée. Totalement insipide de sa part," she said, sticking the bottle and glass into the wet sand before opening the box. "Aide-toi." She pushed them under his nose and he took out two yellow macaroons. Maybe it's even better that you didn't marry her. She is literally so tasteless. Help yourself.

“Merci”

Pierre thought that Y/N might have been right, that it was better that he had not married Dulcinea. Yes, she was pretty and he really felt something for her, but he wasn't bad at writing stories either.

"Je suppose que je devrais rentrer à la maison," he said, when the sun had long since sunk below the horizon and both bottles had run out of alcohol. "Mais j'ai perdu mon téléphone quelque part et je n'ai aucun moyen d'appeler Charles," he laughed at his stupidity. Drunk him told her the whole story of his life, but he regretted nothing. I should probably go home. But I lost my phone somewhere and I have no way to call Charles.

Y/N put her phone in front of his face. Already unlocked with a view of the Dune Paul Atreides wallpaper. Or Timothee Chalamet, because he played him in the last film adaptation, after all.

"Entrez l'indicatif régional devant ce long numéro” she announced as he took the smartphone from her. Enter the area code before this long number.

“Quel est l'indicatif de pays de Monaco?” What is the area code for Monaco?

“+377.”

"Comment sais-tu cela?" he asked, typing in his best friend's number. How do you know this?

"Je travaille à l'ambassade, ça doit être clair," she replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. I work at the Embassy, that's obvious.

About five or seven minutes after Charles answered the phone, he appeared on the beach looking very worried.

“Salut Charles! Tu me manques." Pierre greeted the Monegasque, whose expression changed to a concerned one when he saw Gasly's condition. The Frenchman got up from the sand and hugged Leclerc, who also wrapped his arms around him. He had never felt so sorry for him. And he knew him most of his life and was there when they kicked him out of Red Bull and moved to Toro Rosso. Hey Charles! I miss you.

"Je te suis aussi, Pierre. Je m'inquiétais pour toi" he replied after a moment as they pulled apart. I follow you too, Pierre. I was worried about you.

"Ah j'ai oublié! C'est Y/N. Mon nouvel ami. Y/N, voici Charles, mon meilleur ami” the blue-eyed man rushed towards the girl, dragging Charles with him. The brown haired woman hastily got up and almost spilled her wine from the glass, but she extended her hand towards the newly met man, shifting. Ah, I would forget! This is Y/N. My new friend. Y/N, this is Charles, my best friend.

Leclerc thought that Y/L/N was a really pretty girl. In Pierre's type.

"Comment rentres-tu à la maison, ma douce?" Gasly turned to her as she stowed her things into her rag bag. How are you getting home, sweets?

A red light bulb went off in Charles' head at that moment. His friend never asked his possible mates for one or two nights about transportation home.

“Métro," she replied shortly, and the brunette immediately shook his head. Subway.

“Non non Non! Nous vous conduirons avec Charles. D'accord, Charles?” The green-eyed man only nodded, because that was all he had left. The girl at first did not want to agree, but under Leclerc's pleading eyes she did, because she knew that drunk Pierre would not let her go so easily. No no no! We'll drive you with Charles. Right, Charles?

And so Y/N ended up sitting between Gasly's legs in a black Ferrari 488 Pista Spider. Brunette got his phone in his hands and after seeing it, he said that the next day he would go to the salon to replace the glass.

After a while, he also took a photo of Y/L/N looking out the window and showing her left profile in the frame. Pierre then thought that he had never seen a more beautiful woman in his entire life.

He encouraged the girl to give him her phone number, which she didn't want to do at first because he wouldn't remember her the next day anyway, and Charles was looking at them strangely. I mean, he was looking pityingly at Gasly, not at her. He was the one who felt completely sorry for her being stuck with his friend in this situation.

“C'est mon domaine. Merci beaucoup pour le trajet, Charles," she said finally, and the brunette sighed in dissatisfaction. This is my estate. Thank you very much for the ride, Charles.

"Je te reverrai, n'est-ce pas?" asked the sad Frenchman, not wanting to let go of the brunette from his arms. Leclerc gave Y/N an apologetic look, and she had no option but to agree. We'll see each other again, right?

Y/L/N quickly said goodbye to the men and then got out of the car.

"Je pense que je suis amoureux, Charles," Pierre squealed as he watched the girl enter her cage. The Monegasque slapped him on the back of the head, muttering that he was an idiot. I think I'm in love, Charles.

In the meantime, the girl entered her apartment and leaned against the front door, then sat on the floor, and finally began to sob.

Her roommate, Eszter, heard her crying and immediately went to her best friend. The girl was perfectly aware of her entire afternoon and evening. She may have drunk all the wine herself, but it was almost alcohol-free, so she wasn't drunk at all (unlike Pierre).

"What's wrong, sweets?" Balog asked, crouching beside the younger girl.

“I met a guy whose wife ran away from the wedding and he was drunk as fuck and wanted my number, so I gave it to him, but it was a mistake, because he won't remember me tomorrow anyway. And at work this cunt had a problem with me and I cried and all, I'm fed up, I want to sleep." Esz barely understood anything of her friend's gibberish as she helped her up off the cold floor. She led her into the living room, then sat her down on the couch and gave her tissues.

"He was old and rich, wasn't he?" The brunette knew her platonic soulmate type very well, so she knew what to expect.

“He was maybe ten years older. And definitely rich. He showed me his Ferrari... And his friend who was driving us also had a Ferrari” Y/L/N dreamed, leaning against the back of the sofa. “But his fiancée ran away from the altar. Guess it's not that great. Or she was cheating on him. I don't know, I want to forget about it. Just like he does about me.

But Pierre did not forget. Same as Y/N about him.

#pierre gasly fluff #pierre gasly angst #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly #formula 1 #pg10 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x y/n

[borgien]

Comme elle me l’a demandé, je suis nu au milieu de la pièce. Elle viens se coller contre moi, dans mon dos. Ses narines viennent me renifler dans mon cou, son souffle me fait frissonner. Elle me chuchote : « Ta peau est blanche, très blanche, elle ne le restera pas longtemps... ». Ses mots me troublent... 

Nos corps s’emboîtent, son ventre se frottant à mes fesses, mes sens s’emballent. Une main glisse sur ma poitrine, mes seins, l’autre, sur son cou, refermant lentement son étreinte, danse sensuelle... 

Elle chuchote ; « Tu es à moi… »

Elle s’écarte, ma croupe se retrouve soudainement offerte et mise à sa disposition, qui appelle une claque, puis une autre, faisant retentir un cri (de surprise, de douleur, de plaisir ?).

Elle me tourmente en me caressant ou en me griffant, selon l’angle de ses ongles sur mes chairs. .

Commence une nouvelle série d’élans de ses mains sur mes fesses, cette fois-ci avec une force augmentée... Je crie.

En guise de récompense, elle m’annonce la venue du martinet et me demande de me présenter dans la posture appropriée pour recevoir la chaleur à venir  : « agenouillé, tout le cul et les cuisses à ciel ouvert ». Après les coups de martinet, viendront ses coups de ses reins qu’elle aura ceint d’une verge...

Puis, bien plus tard, reposant ma tête sur ses cuisses, ses mains caressant mon visage, elle dira : « tu vois, quand je te permets de te comporter en petite chienne assoiffée d’indécence, chaque geste, chaque parole, tout se mue en plaisir...