She is more than a dream of mine, and more than perfection to me.
She looks now just as she did then. Each time we look different, but somehow the same. This is our fifth life's 'reunion'. We've each experienced many more lives than five, but this is our fifth time together. We've known each other in most of our lives, but we weren't together. In the last life she was married to an engineer and had three children. She is always faithful to her man. This time I was that man.
I feel that we were made for each other. In past lives we had been in many professions and held many jobs and positions. This time I'm a professor and she is a teacher, again. She is just as beautiful as I remembered when I'd met her in the last life. She would never leave her engineer then, but I'd asked her if, in our next life, she'd give me a kiss and get to know me better. She'd said yes, and my heart sang. Somehow I knew there would be another life, at the time, but she wasn't certain.
Her body has always been flawless. Even after three children in the previous life, her body has shown no effect. Her tummy and breasts were as superb as they are now. In that life we'd met on the Internet, and I instantly knew she was my dream. We'd spent time talking, and enjoying our time there even though we never physically met. But, it wasn't the same. I'd asked for pictures and she'd sent them, and what pictures they were -- my heart still sings. But talking and viewing are not the same as being together.
When she walks I listen for the angels to move aside. When she talks I learn of beauty, and the sound that angels make. When we make love I surrender. I don't know why there are so many different lives, but each time that I'm with her I try to make them perfect. I'm learning, slowly, that I can affect our future, or next, life.
I hope, eventually, to have only her in each new life. I want to be with her always and satisfy her every dream. I'm hoping that if somehow we're together often enough that eventually I'll win the jackpot and she'll be mine forever. This would be perfection to never again have to share her.
Right now we're at the beach. She's wearing a hip length robe over her shoulders that helps to hide her luscious body from passersby and her body is enclosed only by a red bikini. Her hips and thighs are of the texture and color of cool cream. Her magnificent breasts force the bikini to constantly struggle to contain them. Her hips are like the soft undulating ocean swell experienced while sailing on the calm day after a severe storm. Her legs are perfection personified. As she turns her head back toward me, her profile takes away my breath for a moment and I'm gasping for air. She stretches an arm toward me, palm up, to grab my hand and pull me forward, toward her. Her eyes swallow my soul, and her lips cause it to lust. She takes my hand, and I feel the strength in those long fingers. I can still remember the huge engagement ring that she wore in her previous life -- and I remember the smaller wedding band.