From the first day we met eyes, I knew I was a lucky bastard. She smiled only at me, her teeth must have endured braces at childhood. It was neatly arranged with small gap teeth. The luscious lips parted the right way, showing enough to make you want more.
The brilliance and beauty she emanated were simply ephemeral. The contours on her body, the mounds in the right places; she is a mantle of beauty.
Her breath had this surreal softness it calmed my weary days. The ring in her voice, perhaps Ferrari modulated their sounds after her sound.
As Milton will say, “Beauty is natures coin, must not be hoarded. But must be current and the good thereof consist in mutual bliss”. I agree with Milton. At 5,8 Laura was a tall drink of water, satisfying not just the eyes but the soul.
PS, this image was gotten for free on pixabay.
When she wears my t-shirt, all I see are the showcasing of her straight legs. Those legs have driven me to miss many an appointment. Every morning, my last ritual before leaving whenever Laura is around is taking a last glance at her; not for vanity, but for that gratifying pleasure.
Laura didn’t have any of those straight boyish looks in her. Her butt was supple, the delight of the beads she jiggled like a taunt to the gods who bask in their creation.
For someone born in a
society so chaste whose men only saw buttocks in dunes and breasts in camel humps. My love of the ultimate art is simply voodoo.
In this day and age of some people having their tongues in the other cheek, I always remember that beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, and I hold no grudge against how you perceive your own art.
The truth is, she spread her essence into my being with her narcissus eyes and I found my thoughts being dominated by fantasies drying me of intelligence.
She is the love I never threatened with lust. The one I admired more because I had no desire to possess it. My queen of the May.