Remember the tennis girl? I blame her for opening my teenaged eye to the beauty behind.
Older now, I slink into my lover’s room and stand rooted to the spot.
Lying on her front, reading a book, I see her short dress has ridden up to reveal her perfect, round cheeks, gently protecting the thin red band of her thong.
Transfixed, I watch a moment, before tenderly caressing those perfect orbs, adding a kiss to my worship.
A sigh, a moan, and I know my prayer is answered.
Without a word, our clothes are lost, and love consumes us both.
