Love is the answer, but while you are waiting for the answer, sex raises some pretty good questions. - Woody Allen
No lights.
2 candles.
One red, signifying the fire between them.
One white, signifying the pureness of their love.
She stood before him, looking like Aphrodite, Venus and Hathor merged and became Beauty personified. She was wearing all black; black bra, black underwear. He swallowed, no saliva in his mouth; it was all on his chin and shirt. Wiping his mouth, he looked at her once again. She smiled, asked him did he like what he saw. He nodded.
No words would come.
She shook her head and asked him what did he like about what he saw. He responded:
All of it.
She laughed. He stood up, walked over to get a better inspection.
She was magnificent. Immediately, she was infinitely desirable; her eyes kittenish, her stance alluring. She smelled like jasmine. He kissed her; she tasted like the sweetest candy, her taste filling his stomach. He knelt before her, all the while his hands were exploring, touching, feeling. He looked up at her, and she smiled a smile that would rival even the best sounding Siren. Kissing her belly, her thighs, her treasure, he filled his brain with every topographical notch of her body using every sense available to him.
He wanted her; he has wanted her since the moment he had to ability to want a woman. This is what invaded his dreams at night, this is what flashed in front of his eyes every day, this is what made every day a joy to look forward to, this moment in time, right here.
When he was younger, he gave her poetry describing her African Gourd Breasts and Bread Loaf Thighs and Grass Roots Buttocks and Niagara Falls orgasms. No one ever got that reaction from him. Now, he's stunned by her beauty, he's lost in her eyes, his heart jumping from the arch in his right foot to his left cerebellum; his motor skills off, his coordination out of sync. He was ready to see if what he gave her years ago were true.
He enjoyed her as if he was a 4 year old child tasting chocolate ice cream for the first time in 90 degree weather. At that moment, nothing else mattered. He knew that she was beautiful. She was beautiful beyond reference. And he belonged totally to her.
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2 comments:
DAYUM! Now that was hawt. Loved it!
I absolutely love that... you had me at "Venus and Hathor merged and became Beauty personified. " ... exquisitely written...
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