The Masterpiece That Is a Woman

I had opened the door quietly, hoping not to wake her. I wanted to surprise her. I wasn't expected home for two more days. Let me tell you of the beauty I saw.

There she is, sound asleep. She lies on her back, her long, straw-colored hair fanned out above her. She hates when it gets caught underneath her. She must have gotten warm during the summer night. Her sheets are bunched off to the side, leaving her almost completely uncovered.

She lies naked. Peaceful. Her alabaster skin, smooth and almost untouched by the sun, glows in the moonlight that shines through the open window. Her head is turned toward that light, exposing the soft line of her slender neck. If I looked close enough, I knew I could watch the pulse that moved just under the skin. I have spent many nights falling asleep to the rhythm of her heart. A beauty mark, where her neck meets her shoulder, is where I could always elicit a moan with a kiss, bringing her passion forward.

Her shoulders, strong from work but soft and feminine, are one of my favorite parts of her. I could spend hours nuzzling, kissing, caressing them. She often dresses to leave them available, so she can tease me with them. Her collar bones, marking the border between shoulder and chest, create soft shadows, hinting at secrets not known.

Her right arm is beside her, her hand with palm toward the mattress. Her left hand rests at the transition between ribs and stomach. Above that hand, the swell of her breasts begins. Covered by the silvery beams of the moon, an aura highlights the soft spheres of flesh. I longed to taste the smooth skin, to feel their velvet touch on my cheek. The darker circles of her areola top the heavenly globes. I watched as her nipples stiffened into erect nubs from the caress of the breeze flowing across the room to the newly opened door. A more arousing sight, I could not imagine.

Below her left hand ran the plains of her stomach. The gentle rolling of her abdomen, rising and falling with each breath, mesmerized me. A small channel, starting at the base of the ribs, runs toward the basin of her navel. She is ticklish there, giggling when I lick and kiss the small, porcelain bowl. It centers in the narrowest point of her body. Below, her sides slope back out to meet the ridges of her pelvis. On her right, the shelf of bone where I lay my hands sits in view. On her left, a corner of the satin sheet rises off the bed to drape over her. The delicate skin below her navel runs smooth and clean down to where the sheet reaches over to just cover her gates to paradise.

Her left leg, long and slender, emerges from the sheet just below where it joins her body. It runs straight and true, the moonlight kissing her thigh, around the joint of her knee, and over the swell of her calf. Her foot lies in shadow. Her right leg is bent slightly, with her knee off to the side. The creamy skin where her thigh branches from her body glows in the soft light of the moon. She is sensitive there. A gentle touch, a soft kiss, or a hot breath here can have her begging for me to reach my destination, which lies so hidden from my sight.

And then she moves.

Her right leg straightens just a touch, still rotated outward, but almost straight. Her left leg bends to mirror her right, but continues to bend further. The sheet that hid the last of her slides away.

She is completely visible to me now. The cleft between her thighs is open to the air and my admiration. The skin, smooth and clean, that runs down from her navel continues over her mound without transition or the distraction of sprouting follicles. It is pristine. Her flesh divides, and divides again, with thick walls to the outside, and thinner sheets of silky skin within. At the top, barely hidden in the inner folds, lies the sensitive pearl of pleasure. At the bottom, the glistening tunnel to her core. The visible entrance gleams with growing moisture.

I scan her body, brimming with a hunger to commune with it. She is beautiful. She is perfect, for she is my Love. My admiring gaze reaches her face. She looks back at me, her bright blue eyes, now grey in the moonlight, glint with mischief and adoration. Her full lips, rosey in the light, hold a sultry smirk. Her chest rises and falls with a more passionate breath. My heart bursts within me, and I move to her unspoken invitation, to take part in the expression of the love I feel.