A Short Story

When it was over, she waited for him to say something. He took his time before allowing her to get away from that stupid wall and she sat down, her legs protesting as if she had been standing all

"That's okay, you're unlike any girl I've met before." He maintained eye contact, and nodded to affirm the truth of his words as her slim arms moved back around him, and his larger, more muscular ones, embraced her, and his barrel chest pressed to her body. A light kiss to the top of her head, and his lips parted to whisper a sweet nothing, just as another voice cut through the night air. A voice he heard every day of his life, and that he'd recognised anywhere. He didn't have to turn to see who it was before he issued his threat about harming him.

He could sense he was about to take the blame for his and Tom’s progressing relationship and sticking his legs straight out in front of him, he folded his arms defensively across his chest. “So?” he muttered, his lower lip pushing into a moody pout. “A few kisses never hurt

"What was that?" Amaya asked as she crouched beside him. "Hysterical aren't we. You always make me wanna laugh." He wasn't looking at her; he was looking down with a smile on his face. It seemed as if he had lost his mind as he lifted his head up and laughed in her face.

Sidney spends the first half of the sonnet framing desire as an unforgiving and incessant evil. He writes, “Band of all evils, cradle of causeless care; Thou web of will, whose end is never wrought” (3-4). Using words like ‘band,’ ‘cradle,’ and ‘web,’ the speaker’s feeling of entanglement within desire is evidenced. Sidney’s use of alliteration furthers this idea

As a huge shudder racked his body, he pushed down on her head, screamed in ecstasy and released. Wanting, needing to touch her, he simultaneously grasped between her legs. His body was on fire

Her head tilted as far back as it could, soft skin of her neck seeks to avoid the point of his fingernail. He removed it. Her eyes returned to level meeting a grin on the face of death.

“Stop it!” Joan insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. “I won’t cooperate if you hurt him.”

“I hope it did. I must have missed at least half the notes and my right arm feels like it’s going to fall off.” They both laughed at that one. He noticed she was still breathing a bit heavily, and it was turning him on like

She watched as he spoke with his hands, a soft blush coming to her cheeks as called her mind beautiful. Part of her felt that off churning in her stomach, remembering the last time someone had called her that and what he had done to her. But the gentle touch

The intimacy tugged at her gut and lower. In the process, his muscled forearms grazed her body.

He closed his eyes, and his mouth opened slightly as he moaned. He buried his face in her neck, and she felt his labored breath. Reaching down, he took her by the wrist and stopped her. Pulling his head up to look at her, he rested his forehead on hers, brushing their noses together. "I am already dangerously close," he whispered.

He groaned quietly, almost inaudibly as she shifted in his lap, almost to the point of grinding him.

His laughter bounced Mika up and down on his chest. She felt a moment of elation, and suddenly, without even thinking, she reached down and pressed her lips against

For over many centuries, countless poets have chosen to interpret their thoughts, sentiments and concepts through sonnets as opposed to other varying forms of poetry. Invented in Europe and perfected by Petrarch around the XIV century, the sonnet is considered to be the longest lived form of poetry and has since influenced the works and minds of succeeding artists such as Edmund Spenser and William Shakespeare. Thus, by observing Spenser’s Sonnet LXXV and Shakespeare’s Sonnet 55, it can be deduced that both poets have adopted the structure of sonnets to arouse emotions and imagination, but have taken different perspectives in doing so. Therefore, by means of comparing and