No reason to be precious about it, it's best to just be blunt, she's got a helluva ****.
I could wax poetic, swooning like a love-drunk boy, but what's the point? Sharing, expressing, defining the spell is futile. *** with her is like dancing with god.
Finally, at fifty, I feel the vibration of lovesongs. Not in my ears, deeper than any sense can taste. Lost for hours in life, in bonding; finally knowing the only knowledge worth knowing
She teaches by just being. Responding, absorbing, inspiring, implanting new sensations and bringing me out of me.