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Sunday Mornings
The sound of rain tap dances on the windowpane and morning is still hours away.
Flickering candlelight bathes our bedroom in the last remnants of its
glow. The chill of early morning fall is kept at bay by the warmth of our naked
bodies under the comforter still scenting of fabric softener. A sigh of
contentment, of happiness escapes her lips as she snuggles her body deeper into
my chest and love says hello to her again. She
wriggles her body slightly, easing her back into my waiting arms, and our naked
bodies fit together perfectly, like a key inside of a lock, like love inside of
a heart. Slowly, so as not to wake her from sleep, I peel back the comforter so
that my eyes can drink in her naked quiet beauty.
It doesn’t matter the season of the year because her body temperature
is always warm and inviting like a hot cup of coffee or chocolate melting on my
tongue. She’s a temptation not easily resisted, and my hands suddenly become
like tentacles whenever I’m holding her. My nose buries itself in her long
brown hair. When left to its own devices as she sleeps, her hair becomes unruly
and finds itself in my mouth. Her hair covers my eyes like blinds on a window,
and one long breath of air from my lips and every strand takes flight to cascade
back on her shoulders. Beauty never sleeps and as she makes love to the night,
my right hand cradles her head and my left hand comes to rest softly on her
vagina, which is matted down, with strands of wispy brownish feathers. My
fingers slowly part the folds of her vagina to find the wetness that will quench
my thirst. Her taste is that of freshly fallen rain, and I lick every finger so
as not to waste one precious drop of her love. My legs act like vines and wrap
themselves around her legs. She belongs to me and no one can take her away.
A kiss on her shoulders burns my lips and again I am hungry for
everything that is her. Lust has laid claim to my soul. Arousal for a warm place
to rest my head throbs down below, and comes to rest in its place of accustomed
pleasure. A low moan whispers from her lips, and she curves her body to accept
my erection. He accepts her invitation and slips inside of her like daylight
slipping into night to find that place he knows all too well. A place of
reverence that on his knees he would bow to show every respect for the pleasures
received through the years.
One hand on her waist and the
other cradling her head in my chest, we build a slow almost imperceptible rhythm
to the naked eye. Her body is awake to my touch, but her mind is still fast
asleep visiting places we would love to see one day:
She kisses me again. This time more insistent, and I answer her question
with a resounding statement. She
surrenders complete control allowing me dominion of her body.
Our lips seek each out to merge in a slow, soulful, sensual dance of
desire. Her every need is spoken through her tongue and I do its bidding for me
to enrapture her body before the sun rises to signal the coming of a new day. My
need is always the same and to pleasure her is the driving force behind my every
affection. To bring her happiness of every dimension satisfies me to no end.
Her body instinctively turns her onto her back, and I extricate myself
from her arms to travel to her valley of pleasure.
Along the way my tongue detours to her nipples and I suck them like a
baby sucking a pacifier. She moans
in response and her legs open further to allow my tongue complete access of
everything she has to offer. Darkness ensues, my tongue slips inside of her and
only when her body is completely exhausted and thirst is no longer my enemy will
I emerge from the sweetest fruit ever created by God.
Jéan-Pierre,
Dean
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