I have always loved the word “grace”.
To me, it always represented elegance combined with strength, sort of somehow in a spiritual sense. Dignified yet powerful; sophisticated, but simple. As if very little effort was given, but still invoked the feeling of something adjacent to the supernatural.
Old-fashioned, yet still far better than what is now supposedly new and improved. Like why bother changing anything, because you already got it right the first time, and you hardly even tried.
Grace Kelly’s name embodied her persona of black-and-white elegance; phrases like “she moves with grace” and “by the grace of God” encapsulate the way “grace” makes me feel.
It’s just one of those words. There are not many of them — that just makes you “feel” it when you say it, and when you feel grace in its raw form, there is no other word in the dictionary to describe it.
There is no synonym to the notion feeling of grace. There is no replacement, for the feeling of grace.
Grace. It is how I feel — when I am inside of you.
When I lay you down, onto your back, look into your beautiful aching and happy eyes, and position myself between your legs. It at that moment when I find myself in anticipation for the next moment, when your feminine divinity encapsulates my manhood.
When I am — inside of you.
At this very moment, staring into your beautiful eyes — I am in the presence of grace. I am dancing with you in heaven as the anticipation builds. The foreplay, started when I opened up my laptop this morning and started typing this very piece. The words you read at this exact moment, it is my call to arms, to bring your grace under my dominion, though I am no match for it.
I slide myself inside you, and the warmth and wetness of you became a bolt of lighting, shooting right straight through my veins. I become a Delorian, traveling back in time, to a sofa in a craftsman home, seeing your face as I fill you up and my hardness battles your softness in an epic struggle I have no hope to win. Our union for what we ached for in what felt like forever.
I am there, as I will be again, staring into the eyes of the woman I love, in that ‘best’ way.
Feeling your grace as I am inside you again, your legs roped around me on a white linen bed, where I cum inside you and grow hard again, without ever leaving your body. I do this so that I may pound my liquid commitment into you one more time, all so that you can really understand that every word I ever wrote of your grace, was felt in the deepest fibers of my soul.
It has never been an easy ride between us, My Love, but it’s your grace that has left me resilient. It’s your grace, that makes me try. We are not perfect and our lives are not, but you sure as fuck have grace.
I can’t help it, Baby. I just fucking love you.