Pretty Brown Eyes

You know what I miss most about having a woman in my life? It’s not the sex or cooking or having someone there when I’m sick or stressed.

That stuff is cool but what I miss most is big pretty brown eyes looking up at me. In the morning when I wake up and the first thing I see are those eyes. At night when she steps out the shower and those big pretty eyes are tired or lusty.

Eyes are the window to the soul and I’m in the business of romancing souls. Because telling a woman she’s beautiful is great; telling her she’s sexy is cool. Pushing her against a door, holding her ribs while kissing her is better. But nothing compares to looking her in those perfectly big and pretty eyes and she just knows you don’t want to be anywhere else.

I notice eyelashes, eyebrows, cheekbones, those small features that make her different. I notice the moistness of her lips and the wetness of her tongue. All those traits that compliment the eyes.

Eyes don’t lie when words do.

Eyes are the key that unlock the door to perfectly nasty moments between adults.

Sleeping Next to Perfection…

Scene One…

Caramel skin on black sheets, the fan turning slowly overhead, the white comforter sitting just below the crack of her ass. Her last day teaching was Thursday, she went hard during the Holiday weekend celebrating her freedom so while I was going back to the real world today she was probably going to sleep until ten, be on Facebook until noon and spend the rest of the day catching up on Scandal or True Blood on OnDemand.

When she knocked on the door at two am there was no overnight bag, no call before hand. Just her in tight jeans and a peach blouse, barefoot and red eyed. “Your house was closer,” was all she said before she kissed me on the cheek, went and took a shower and then climbed in the bed as naked as the day she was born. Her skin was moist, she liked to sleep under me, her thighs wrapped around my thighs. The heat in-between her thighs on my leg, she was always wet in some form or fashion. Some nights more erotic than others.

Last night wasn’t really erotic, it was just calming, having her in my bed was just calming. My house wasn’t closer than hers so knowing she wanted to be here, knowing she didn’t want to sleep alone just as much as I didn’t want to sleep alone was everything to me. If it wasn’t for her lying on my chest last night I would have spent it at my desk writing or on the couch for a couple hours. A bed wasn’t a bed when you were in it alone. Waking up to pillows and birds chirping could never compare to waking up to seeing her lips, the bridge of her nose, the way she fought for more cover only to push it off seconds later. When she was up and smiling she was perfect but when she was sleeping it was a different kind of perfect.

A perfect I could write about and watch all day. I took a picture with my mind. Etched every detail in my imagination for the 1000th time. Looking at my cell phone, knowing if I did what I was about to do I’d be late for work all I could do was smile because she was worth a crazy look from my boss.

Placing my lips on her lower back, my fingers tracing the outline of her ass she spread her legs as if it came natural. She wasn’t sleep anymore, I could hear the change in her breathing. Her stomach was still on the sheets but her back was arched just enough for my fingers to find what I was looking for. She was just wet enough for me know she was having the same dreams I had, the same morning desires I needed.

Turning her over, seeing the half closed eyes and slight smirk, she whispered… “Good morning and you better hurry or you’ll be late.” I always started with a kiss on the belly button, always started with my middle finger in her middle. Sort of like sticking a toe in bath water to make sure it wasn’t too hot or hot enough. The water was perfect so my mouth found the fountain and I had breakfast before work.

Leaving her shivering with the pillow between her legs and a glow on her face I kissed her, letting her suck her flavor off my tongue and walked out the door. Knowing this week would fly by as fast as a night of sleeping next to perfection.