He kissed my neck but not my lips. Strong hands, with a light touch, he caressed my back and my shoulders. With full awareness, I felt all as, over my clothing, he navigated my body, settling on the shelf between my hip and my thigh. He liked this spot on a woman, he confessed. He took hold of me here.
There were moments I wondered would he kiss me? Though I knew he would not. Of this knowledge grew my trust. A few times I allowed my curiosity to wander toward what it might be like. Cigarettes and whiskey? (Though he’s not a drinker) I was glad he didn’t try. I didn’t want him to. And never did his hand greedily grab hold of mine, never did he ask me to touch him.
Because he didn’t lead with sex, I felt comfortable around him. Not once did I feel he wanted more than I wanted to give him. Respect lead to trust and trust lead to intimacy. Intimately, he cuddled me. Each night, eagerly, I layed my head on the pillow between his shoulder and his breast, combed my fingers through the hair on his chest, then turned from him to push myself into him, closing the gap between my hips and his. One Body. We fit.
Here is where he would kiss me. As you would kiss a child, he kissed my back and traced the line down my shoulder. Because he kissed me like a child, my child came to play with him. I held his hand in the sand.
xob
BODY BY BIANCA 