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The days are consumed between travel and hotels, conversations and decisions, dinners and lonely rooms unaccompanied. Rooms that have become a work place where only a few minutes you can steal to escape reading. But the time to write between the hours slip away and as if this corner before Bacchus now seems uninhabited dwelling. Evening came and the wind as if to erase the letters are long and written here. Letters that
have often spoken of love, sex as much, suffering, laughter and mystery, to me, and you. Letters that have helped to have a life without realizing it, to live again. I've met people only, to hearts and eyes, words and lips, skin and feelings. And even today, December 25, 2006 fall new readers saying they've received a nice surprise to discover by chance.
My first reader, Natalia, was much more than they could expect from my lyrics. After almost two years and a half I'm speechless to explain what it feels like the first reader having multiplied by hundred.

So, Merry Christmas to all who have Once I've read.

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Music Meme

All , a blog to which I attached a very special affection, and his voice Amaya (koon) , me invited to continue a meme different. This unconventional
meme is to respond to questions using only titles of songs chosen music group or singer.

I choose to describe Andres Calamaro.

• Are you male or female?: Loco

• Describe: My own trap

• do people feel about you: The boyfriend of oblivion

• How would you describe your previous relationship I am not forget

• Describe your current relationship with your boyfriend: heart A debt

• Where you want to be now: The front

• How you feel about love: never equals

• How is your life: I burn

• what would they be if had only one wish: The third of the dreams

• Write a wise appointment or phrase: not ask me to not be an unconscious

• Now say goodbye: Adios, Amigos, Adios

continue this meme I invite all those who have smiled on reading.

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Wet

I've never seen it rain so much. It was a gray day illuminated by a strange light. His footsteps resounded on the pavement accelerated puddles as she walked by my car stopped at a stoplight. The water on the window clouded the picture of his red hair and his breathing rapid and tiresome. Moved away by pouring water on his black coat and when I turned the corner with the green light at the edge of the road, arm soaked in high vacuum was trying to find a taxi.
I stopped my car in front of her, down the passenger window and bending it would bring her wherever he went. Without looking at me shook his head. I walked away leaving that contained thick long red hair and huge breasts getting wet in solitude. Among the troubled
traffic holds a rainy day in this city and crawl through the hellish traffic jam and I circled the block at the same light. Patient waited to get green again and then again double that corner. There he stood, his pants soaked to the knee. Desperate to stop wet and turned against her. Lower window and leaning whispered, how many laps I have to give the block before you let me take you wherever you go?

looked at me, smiled and looked away, confused. Before refusing re-opened the door and went undecided. Without looking at me whisper a thank you when the car began to move.

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Charter for you

was the first time that someone did not expect something from me. Your words were not disingenuous. Your eyes just stared. Do not judge or looking. Not wanted or were fleeing. Your hands were not intended to caress or kiss your lips. They had masks. Your smiles were just stills was yours and your thoughts. Search tutors do not teach. We're just you and me.

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All I have of you,
can be stored in my pockets.
A crumpled paper, rubber, hair
smiles, words,
scars on my body,
and your looks.
All I have of you,
a handful of memories.

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The animal is awake under the door

Loneliness of ideas sometimes encloses the animal caged in bars of gold. And this, bored, shut up and sleep in a corner.
And maybe, one day, someone enters the hand through the bars and slowly strokes it until he wakes up, startled. The ideas seem frozen and begin to hear the cries of the beast. Want to get out of that cage and wet lips kissing the owner of that hand that ended the dream of your passions. Want to break the dress clothes, you want to lick her breasts and sliding your fingers up your vagina, you want to hear her screaming while her sink into your erect cock.

And you who yell or does the animal released hitting the fence that prevents you from touching, which prevents him kiss, lick and fuck.

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Letter Meme

From that, against my will, decide to leave the relationship, I knew that nothing would be equal.
Certainly for me it was nothing, after one hundred days involved drowning in tears on the pillow violet my room I went out helpless and unwilling to come across anyone. It was someone else.
But what about you? Perhaps something was the same for you? Going into that world of unfamiliar faces, smiles and glances suggestive provocative was what you wanted right? How many bodies
Run your hands? How many groans you hear? How many bra closures learned to undo?
were many fingers that were intertwined with yours, you kissed many lips and clothes off the bodies. But tell me, in those breasts, large, medium, small or large, round or pointed, sagging or smooth, in those pieles blancas o morenas, ¿encontraste en alguno de ellos lo que buscabas? ¿algún beso te dio lo que te faltaba? ¿alguna de sus vaginas te llevo donde querías ir? ¿descubriste el secreto tras alguna de sus palabras?
Por curiosidad, ¿recuerdas los nombres? ¿sus voces? ¿recuerdas que era lo que te gustaba de cada una de ellas?

Tras estos años de noches imposibles y colección de perfumes ¿tu vida es mejor? ¿es más divertida? ¿esta más llena?

Baco, ¿tu vida tiene mas sentido ahora?

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Deakialli me hace a custom and you know my weaknesses. So I can not refuse to satisfy their curiosity.

How long have you been blogging?

Baco This rare adventure began on a hot August 19, 2004. So recently we were celebrating.
How did you learn of the existence of blogs and start blogging?

Lost in the thickets of the network began to read some interesting things written by persons unknown. Not to need a book or a newspaper, even a portal. Anonymous people writing from the heart. Tell me five Blogs that you follow daily or very frecuenciaAquí started to have to choose. I read as often as I can much more than five blogs, so I will not select. A good way to start is by my links "Other confessions", although there are certainly many more.

anonymous reader Are you a Blog?

In most I read I am anonymous.

Do some authors that awaken you special sympathy?

"Again we have to choose? There are many, and not going to bore you, but I'm sure you're one of them. What
consider higher-quality blogs?

Speaking of blogs like mine have no vocational or technical issue, the quality are the ones who write letters taken from deep inside.

five bloggers How drunk would you go?

uffff, Five? I would go with all my readers, without exception.

What three bloggers would spend a night of sexual madness?

But what are memes hobby of asking by limiting the number? Would be more than one night with all my readers ...

Did you ever love a blogger?

Si. And that's where I can read ...
Have you met any more than the keyboard?

course, and it is certainly a of the best things that has given me the adventure of writing.
Are you satisfied with your blog?

at all, but this is what you get.

witnesses not happened, but I thank Deakialli to force me to update my blog.

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wine blogger

Sitting across the table looked as he spoke. Her skin was milky and had large black eyes looking deep kept secrets.
His tousled short hair and intentionally contrasted with the roundness of his face. He told me his life with deep strokes while playing with the lighter in his hands and only stopped to take a sip of beer we had brought. I drank in his words with the same desire to drink it shortly after their mouth.
After the beers we went to his house. I went to his back while serving wine. My hands reached to his waist and walked her neck with his lips. Notice how your skin prickle. Drew her back against my chest and I got lost in the sounds of rapid breathing. He drank the glass of wine and turned, we locked eyes for a few seconds, his eyes kept secret that deep beginning to discover. He kissed me and filled my mouth of that white wine. He smiled. Surround your waist with my arms and our waistlines sinking my crotch bumped into his. Unbuttoned shirt exposing her breasts larger than had ever seen. I went down with his tongue through his neck through his shoulders and noticing her nipples harden in my mouth. Drawing curves of saliva ran down her navel and her belly as he removed his pants. From the floor, knees rest on the table saw, take the bottle of wine and tilt your body while pouring the wine into his navel. With open mouth I went over to where he came I expected. Our lips met, my tongue pierced, and drank it.

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The heat of the morning seemed to flood the street trying to pass the windows kept the cold conditioning in my office that morning in August that began an affair that has no beginning, it never ended. The words came
those early days of the depths of my skin and Baco , then, was the deadly bombing of a private speech for many years. These Confessions of Bacchus were the window through which Bacchus peeked every morning to tell their night screaming hard to infinity.
never could imagine that would begin to look out the window so many faces, many stories many surprises. In this crystal hit one day my soulmate and plenty of bright eyes looked out.

The window that opened a day of my life that leave hundreds of ghosts and fears became the entry of so many experiences and people, I can never forget Bacchus, I will never forget these Confessions .

I hope that we continue to accompany us for a long time, now with a new look to celebrate two years together.

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2 years old I met

This lying beside me, asleep. Her naked body breathe slowly. A few minutes ago was sweating and groaning while penetrated me hard. Licking, biting and squeezing my breasts with each thrust. I still feel her lips go around my neck and his hands stroking my thighs as he began to get wet. I remember how slowly began to undress, button to button my shirt and showed off his one of my breasts, stroked her nipple hardened immediately as our tongues played. My whole body was burning and I just wanted to feel it on me, hear her rapid breathing as his pelvis hitting on me and was invaded by him.

Now he sleeps, as if he had not done anything. Naked and alone. Her breathing is slow. But I will wake up. I will caress her breast and to cross his thighs with my tongue, I will come up and I notice his penis harden in my mouth. And above you'll ride. I feel it inside, I want to be me tighten our pelvis, I want to penetrate me with his cock. And if you open the eyes uncovered, for that I tied.

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Asleep

a sunny day I met her. One of those days that are framed and hung on the wall if they are created watercolor strokes. He smiled at me while I was talking to another person. My eyes went to hers and not left in the afternoon although it did not cross any word. The second time we met was the last. His tongue was playing in my neck as she hurried to undo my pants. Announced their desire and their lips curled hair to the rhythm of my heartbeat. Our mouths were learning to know when a key is introduced in that rusty lock. We'd just lie on the bed when the sound of the door made her jump. I was still confused when she was already wearing the dress and went out into the hallway nervous. I went out the window, stepped on a yellow flower and I jumped a small fence.

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Breaking

I open the drawer and look with nervous hands. You have to be here among all these old letters, wrapped in the smell of old paper. My fingers like an army of ants methodically goes through each and each of the papers and my heart races as I approached my arteries tightening at the end of the drawer without finding the damn letter. Must be, I clearly remember having put in the drawer, I remember perfectly how each of your words tore my heart, I remember many tears watered the paper and still do every time I remove the drawer to read it again.
reached the end and the letter is not. I needed that piece of paper. After seven years I have never seen, walked by a cobbled street in the heart smiling as a guy took his hand. I was happy and seemed in love.
need to break the letter and forget it forever. He is happy with another man and I can not keep thinking in it. A rebuilt his life and I have to redo mine, out of this dark room and forgotten. I need to find that letter, his last letter, the only one that said I wanted to break. Exhausted, he ducked his head and see a paper on the floor under the table. The last time I took the drawer to read it I had to hit the ground. The lame, is the letter I wanted, I recognize the tracks of my tears.
I will break it, fix your fingers on it decided ... but what if I read his farewell before last?
unfold it and start reading ...

"We convey deep sorrow because the news that his wife was on the ship of our company which sank, was killed on February 14 of ... "

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papers

white skin, cold and hot red heart, impertinent claws ripping the guts of your brothel. Your eye hunting butterflies in the sunny countryside of wheat that hides your curls while your lips springs life in words heard. Desired dream about your naked body pink nipples while flying in your mouth red kisses quench the thirst evoked in the softness of your skin beloved. Remembered smile, lit beauty, consummate love in your eyes of blue sea. Desired body, I dreamed.

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all starts for you

It all starts with a look of surprise. The desire gushing into the skin when it is still recognizable. A smile awakens deep butterflies in the stomach in a flutter that will become frantic. A word rampage rivers of blood tightening arteries. One touch and there is no going back. A kiss ... a kiss and the world will be mine.

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Castaway

You asked not long ago that was what I liked about you. I wonder how often do, with almost closed lips and staring between the heights of the city. I asked as if awaiting a response. As the castaways throw bottles into the sea.
The glow of sunset through the trees by flight camouflaged my answer and other words the bottle away from the coast.
On the bed, both knees, kissed. Your eyes closed lost in a dream and my hands down the smoothness of your skin inflamed. Descend yours leaving my lips, caress your cheeks and blend in the line of your shoulders as I feel the warmth of your turn on my chest. I spend my arms around your waist and you pull her towards me, my extended hands in your back down to your thighs as you surround me with your legs. I raise you clinging to your ass and penetrate you hard while you flood me with your rapid breathing and your noticing slight groan as I sink into you. Hug me and start moving on me, riding slowly, slowly. Lamo
your breasts, play with your nipples pressing them between my lips, notándolos harden in my mouth while your pelvis mine strikes with increasing force, the more violently. How violent are your bites, your nails digging into my back, your legs squeezing my waist and your moans echoing in the silence. Posadas

my hands on your waist I stop and raise my head to reach you with his eyes. Look at me, sighing, among smooth movements and sharp strokes. Look at me, and when the heat unites our bodies with the heat, when your movements start to be convulsive shudder moans when your in the air turning into screaming, the sweat of our bodies is based on a single sweat and nails penetrate my skin, then I look and answer the question of that glass bottle.

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Today was a day for years.

Your words were others but they sounded like years ago, and was kissed on the cheek but I knew as many years, and your look was different but shone like years ago. And as years ago the moon would reach you and leave you there, and know that you'll never go. Knowing that I have only to look to heaven to see you, I have only to raise his hand to touch you, I have only to give you the moon to have you. And so, kiss on the bright solitude. Y hear you speak in silence. And feel you breathe in his sleep. And all for the moon. And just for the moon. How many years would give you the moon today.

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Today As I remember it was not mine

walked by one of those streets that cut through my skin, feeling like falling on my ancient golden stone houses, I saw before me the silhouette of a veiled woman in the afternoon sun. I walked the steps that separated us with the certainty that those lines would Hellenistic mine. And when the light withdraw the veil that hid his face I knew that this woman knew her even before her. That silhouette at the bottom of the street, that face of huge black eyes, was the image of desire. And his supreme body sensual and voluptuous aroma was the bed of my greed. But the grin on her rosy lips was the beginning of the end.

I wanted a woman when it was not mine, while it was not mine. In her arms, savoring the sweetness of the soft skin of her hips, I felt the bile in my mouth when I was aware that it was mine.

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still remember his long-fingered hands and sharp claws visit my sweaty bare chest. I still remember the stifling heat that covered every corner of the house. I can not forget his penetrating gaze mixture of pleasure and hatred. I remember how it began to undress slowly. Of methodically removed my shoes and slid down my pants legs. His hands penetrating into the seam of my pants, pulling them down and uncovering my erection involuntary. I remember how his lips were close to it until you can feel the warmth of your breath. I can still remember your lips soft as clouds, its like darkness cold tongue penetrating his body touching me and mine. I remember feeling his erotic curves invade and her round breasts pressing mine. I remember his pointy nipples as stakes nailed to my pleasure. I miss my warm skin break into a thousand feelings at the touch of her cold white skin.

Even today, in the dark solitude, I smell the heady perfume that exuded her long black hair covering the nakedness of his death when he went back to my room.

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Confession

finder earnestly devoured the pages written in stroke excited. His words rocked my senses, desires and tear my skin vibrate if on paper the lamplight that shelters me from the darkness of the room, think I was inside her, in her womb, covering each of the folds that hides . Speaking of that day
huge gray clouds full of tears. From the first time he saw his bright blue eyes and his skin looking white as snow from the small window recovery of the post as she hung the hose in the fuel pump.
Remember the smile that pierced his chest when he stopped the car in front of the dugout to prepare to pay as under the dead look of shame. Remember the furtive glances of desire misunderstood as he charged. And remember the second and third day of looks and smiles. And never forget the beautiful words leave the lips of the princess pink color of snow.
But still not explained where he got the strength to take you to dinner. And remains unexplained because it was that warm June night the restaurant where they left off after thinking a thousand times.
His words tremble on the paper when looking remembers hiding shameful as they sat. But also remember getting lost in your eyes, in silence, as one looks at the calm sea on a spring evening. Decorating a blue eyes so white skin that seems impossible.
The laughter and words are the flowers of a garden full of sources that emanate from silence. Silencing of penetrating looks. Silences pink as her cheeks or her lips. Silences
crowning night when they said goodbye to the wooden portal of their old house. Silences were broken as crystals when that princess marine eyes burning kiss her lips and the sea was to storm the creek bed of that old house, and the silence around moaning that flooded everything, and the white snow their skin melted in his hands trembling and inexperienced.

And now I read wrapped in a blanket of loneliness and tears filled those gray clouds the reason for his departure.

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The loneliness of the night

The loneliness of the night is not something imagined. Wake up naked and alone on the bed. The sun filtering in the window warms my thighs. Or maybe the heat is retained. I remember
strong arms and big hands gripping my waist. I remember a hard mouth and a voracious mouth biting mine.
I see some empty black eyes looking at me in that restaurant looks and swagger.
I see a smile and a face expressive without days of shaving. A deep voice and intense stare is enough for my companions disappear. Now I am interested only your skin.
I remember kissing her neck and fondling her breast. And as his fingers buried in my hair cradling my groaning. I forgot his words and attitudes. But I remember the hair announcing his hard member. I remember riding his anxious move runaway pelvis. I can still hear their cries echoing in my heart as I recall my sharp nails digging into his back. Lone
in bed, slid my fingers over his lips and taste the salt in your body.
The loneliness of the night is not something imagined.

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Thanks

Thanks to all who read me.

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Legend

Legend has it that in a Venezuelan village on the border with Brazil, when he began the birth of the granddaughter of the last indigenous leader of Taurepan in all rivers in the savanna water stopped until finally heard the cries of the girl. The ancestral Makunaima admired for what had happened to her and was captivated by its beauty decided to award three virtues.
The little girl in her dark eyes would keep all the beauty and mystery of the savannah. Her smile would be the mirror of Kerekupai-meru, the famous Angel Falls. And his soul would be strong and big as Roraima Tepuy a boulder 2800 meters of vertical walls.

Loaded with shopping bags waiting for the bus between people and cars trying to escape the jam. The sun illuminates the long, straight black hair along his dark face. Its exotic and angelic face is not enough to save her from contempt or stares of lust, or both together. Venezuela
In the seven years he had to leave his family to go to work because they could not maintain it. And with fifteen when he finally returned home claiming to be her father abused her.
At eighteen she became pregnant and her partner left taking the boy after trying to kill her.
Now in Spain working without a contract and residence permit will ended a couple of months. His dream is to raise enough money soon to finally live with his son. Tonight
go to football, am the most despicable face of this city bathed in the Mediterranean will meet her in a dark street, a small and lonely. Tonight a heartless abuse her again.

Legend has it that no one will take away the smile to Taurepan princess, as never dry the Kerekupai-meru.
Legend has it that nobody can break the soul of the princess as ever Tepuy Taurepan Roraima collapse.

Legend has it that by the Valencia streets sometimes can see the mystery of the savanna in the eyes of a beautiful girl smiling with the glitter of water in the world's largest jump.

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Today is her

His shoes with pointed heels echoing on the cobblestones of the street. Walk without looking at anyone, proud like a warrior going into battle. Appears armed with her enormous breasts caught in a spring white shirt with her hair salon or those thick red lipstick. Hide behind a cold hard look factions. Not stopped by anybody, and nobody can stop it. Talk without need for the listen because he knows he will be busy looking at his legs wrapped in stockings black. Do not try to convince because the reason it gives your body. No one cares.
But that's all the paraphernalia of war. Her true weapons are intelligence and work. He wakes up every morning at half past six, and his day just after midnight after doing the laundry. A five-minute talk with the client is enough to know how is to make the case. All in your head and lunch is dedicated to reviewing the last notes of the following process a cut drinking and smoking a cigar while attracting all eyes in the cafeteria. Men making the protagonist of his sexual fantasies and women sacándole defects. Today

wine without hair and no miniskirts, no heels or makeup. Today we spent the lunch to chat while he realized a few skewers of English tortilla. Without weapons or shields. No positions or demonstrations. Today is just as smart. Today is just beautiful. Today is it.