ladymuse

For the love of my life.

Sunday Morning

Feel my heart, baby, he said. She slid her hand over his heart to feel it racing. His flesh was still hot to the touch, and slick with the sex that had just finished.

She looked at him then and thought how very young he looked. The misty morning sunlight played around him and there was a rosy flush in his cheeks and his lips. His eyes were closed, his hair dark and damp. He was the picture of peace and content. She thought he could have been sixteen, and for a moment she could see him as he would have been then making love to someone. She saw him above them, a few strands of his long hair coming loose from the ponytail he wore. How intent he would be, passionate, almost overcome with how amazing it felt. She could see him come, give himself over to it completely. She saw his big Cheshire smile and heard him say, Feel my heart, baby.

How lucky that girl was, to be one of the first to have him. To learn and play with him. And how much more lucky was she, herself, to be the last.