Tenderly

These hands move over her like pleasure-seeking precision instruments. My palms sweat and glide over her hot skin. In the dim light, I watch her take in a breath and bite her lip, her face contorting in pleasure. 

As I press against her body, she writhes in my hands. Her breathing quickens, she gasps, moans, groans, and then her eyes open. Our eyes inhale each other. Our minds ponder the same question. And we're hopeless in each other's arms. 

Her shirt comes off, and so does mine. Somehow our flesh seems like it's on fire. When I touch her, my skin wants to stay on her. It's like I'm trying to become her. 

I part her legs and lean in to kiss her. She stops me for a moment as my intentions become clear. Kissing her makes me ache. Touching her isn't enough. Our breath is hot on each other's faces and necks. I kiss her chest, her eyes, her ears, her neck, her shoulders, her fingertips. She's one big erogenous zone, and nothing is neglected. I'd kiss her feet if she'd let me. 

The light goes out and we make love tenderly, carefully, and she is so perfect. If she did anything differently, I would still say she was perfect because it's her I want to be with and whatever she wants to do makes our time together impossibly perfect. She can do no wrong, as she's the one I love.  

Our sweat mingles with our kisses, and our bodies complain until they've had their fill. My hands have held her how I wanted her. Finally, she's quiet next to me. I hold her and tell her for the tenth time that she's my girl and I love her. She says I don't have to keep telling her that, but I just can't believe it so I keep saying it to make it real. Here she is, my dream girl next to me. She rode with me through the blinding light of our passions and into this current darkness. How could this be real? 

With her face turned away, I hear her breathing slow as she falls asleep. And I am completely at peace as I hold her. I know I don't possess her, but walking through life with her by my side and sleeping next to her at night has made me the happiest man I know. I smile as I fall asleep to the sound of her breathing and the smell of her hair. 

I don't deserve her, and I know it. She's so good to me, I can't even explain. What makes her want to bed down with me every night, I don't know. What makes her want to include me in anything in her life, I'll never know. 

When your life has become a dream, do you still dream at night? How is anything real when you live with such a creature? She has my heart, my mind, my body. I am hopelessly hers. And I wouldn't want it any other way.