DivaNylon

My living room, it is a place of poetry. Dream. Envy. Here we are in the Literary Café. We write and recite each of its words ... we laugh, We valve, you tips from time to time ...One forgets not to laugh. We do not forget the gentleness and respect that... It spoils the Mistress of the place, and we admire him. Don't forget that we'este in a dream....My sensuality is up to you gentlemen , it remains to be discover it, do it vibrate .... theSincerely, Louise*********Message to the slaves of nylon stockingsSlave in her stockings, nylon, notched, such, crossed, instinct of love, eroticism spooky.... Shock of breath, the body, the breath, the beating heart, the hands wavering, my palm against his, my fingers grazing his abyssinale bacchanal.. I am buried in it, or should I flee by it, regardless of the answer is that I confirms me pat it, as I behave with myself : I am someone you door, prepared in the manner of a compote...de sour fruit. The recipe consists of a composting facility that of a soup fresh - bitter becomes sweet desire ..... I fund it as I déglutirais my villainy, cynical........*************Song When it passes down my streetThe girl with nylon stockingsSwinging her bare shouldersUnder his long blond hair, blonde, blondWhere does it go ?The girl with nylon stockingsWho is she ?The girl with nylon stockingsShe looks straight outA novel of ChandlerThe other day I followed herBut it has not seemed to please himWhere does it come from ?The girl with nylon stockingsWhat does it do ?The girl with nylon stockingsI don't know how it is calledI do not know who she reminds me ofI don't know that who is calling me in itThe girl with nylon stockingsIt was something unrealTo rotate the cranksWith her lil ' dress with shoulder strapsThe girl with nylon stockings