It's early on a cold, quiet morning and a light snow is falling. I just woke up. My eyes are blurry and unfocused, my heart is clear: Where are you? There is warmth, I feel it. It comes not from the dieing fire in the corning of the room, it is to my left. Your form lies flush against me buried in a heap of thick covers; your hair, the color of bright copper, is splayed out wildly on the pillow.
I lose my breath, as I do every time I look at you; your beauty racks my mind. I don't deserve you; my own perverted twisted form doesn't possess the grace to yours. Your chest rises up and down slowly in a symphony of a lucid vision. What are you dreaming of? I hope it is of me, a livid romantic dream of our first time, quick and awkward but passionate; it is a memory only a day old. My heart beats wildly, thinking about you envisioning me, don't you hear it? I am perspiring a little, wrapped in my cocoon of sheets, blankets and you.
We were not each other's firsts, but the way we both moved last night, it could have been. We both wanted to do so much with each other, both craving each other bodies for our own pleasure and yet also wanting to please each other.
As I look at you, I am torn in indecision. I want to rouse you, hear your voice and feel you pull yourself around me. My desire, my lust, my love wants me to make love with you. But I cannot... You are so perfect, content. I can watch you for hours in this sweet state; not a care in the world, not a trouble or bother. How could I end it?
You stir slightly; I both fear and hope you have awakened. You shrug in your sleep and expose your shoulder. The bare flesh tantalizes me; you have the most pure skin I have ever seen, the soothing color of cream. The few freckles gracing it call to me, and I slowly move my hand to caress the warm skin.
I need more... now. It feels as if my finger tips are sending a calm orgasm through my arms.
On your side, I can only see your body from the neck up; the bitter chill keeps you tucked away beneath the duvet. I run my hand down your shoulder to your neck and along your jaw, causing you to moan slightly and myself to smile; and I worry my touch has awoken you. My fingers lightly caress your cheek until they touch your lips. My fears are realized when your kiss my fingers when they center your soft lips. You take my index finger into your mouth lovingly, gently sucking on it with your eyes still softly shut.
The warm moistness feels like ecstasy on my finger tips, I can feel your love reverberating through my entire body into my heart. I need to say something to you, how I feel, how much I love you, how much I don't want you to stop... but I enjoy the agreed upon silence between us.
I bring my other hand to your shoulder and begin to push down the cover veiling yourself. When it is nearly down to your elbow, your eyes automatically flash open revealing panicked green wells to your soul. You have always been embarrassed about your breasts. Barely a handful, you try to conceal them, ashamed of yourself. Your eyes plead with me to leave them be in their cotton shell, your hand holding the sheet with a death grip. I take it gently and try to pull it away softly and for the first time I press my lips against yours. We kiss softly, but full of passion and we are both lost in the moment.
