Work of Art

I set out to write a nice, steamy letter… it just really felt like a lovely night for it. And, believe me… There is plenty running through this dirty old mind of mine that I could talk about… Like… Hmmmm… Oh, how about how I finally got to move your belly from the “I've never seen it” column to the “omg it is so much better than I possibly could have ever imagined” column — just like every other single square inch of your skin that I've ever been allowed to see so far. And just how very much just the idea of pressing my lips against it (perhaps while en route from one destination to another…) kept me up all night last night…

(I'll leave it to you to decide whether that's a double entendre or not…)

But if you want to know the truth, right now… I just can't get over the astonishing work of art that is your face… Those eyes that always seem to penetrate me down to my soul. Your lips, oh so perfectly designed for kissing. Your nose, god your jawline… your ears and your hair, neck, shoulders… on and on and on…

I've had a slideshow of you running through my head…

Smiling… frowning… laughing… every expression I've ever seen, some I haven't but hope to eventually…

(perhaps while you're huffin' and puffin' right in my ear…)

As if the very firmament were chiseled into forms which are so absurdly beautiful, they shouldn't be allowed to exist in this universe.

Oh, but it's not like the artwork stops at your shoulders… Every single line, every single curve…

Gosh, your arms… Oh how I long to work my lips along those arms, kissing every inch or so as I work my way from your shoulders to the very tips of those elegant long, long fingers…

I've heard there's a shortage of perfect breasts in this world, but yours exist so it simply cannot be true… I imagine they'd fit perfectly into the cups of my hands as I hold you from behind, nuzzling the back of your neck…

Oh, god, speaking of your neck, your back… that line of your spine seemingly designed to seduce me all on its own… How such beauty and grace can exist in a single person will forever be a mystery to me, but hopefully the way it feels under the gentle caress of my fingertips will not…

And, gosh… I've probably already written more words about that thing of yours than have been written about any other ass in all of human history, but oh, my love…

No artist has ever captured its like, none so perfect has ever graced the pages of a magazine, or been found on a movie screen. No actress, no beauty queen, nobody can compare. The very definition of sexy, brought to life… My hands ache to hold it, see how it feels as we lay cuddled in bed with your head on my shoulder and your leg draped across my own…

And the way it moves…

You probably know by now that I'd happily stop there if I had to, but oh my love… those long, long legs, your agonizingly beautiful hips, oh my god your thighs…

You don't even want to know how much I've been thinking about running my hands up the inside of those thighs since getting to see so very much of them last week… Gently pushing them apart along the way…

Love, you truly have not left me with much mystery, but to go any further I would have to let my imagination take over… A job it is more than willing to take on…

But I'm just not sure you're ready for that. I'm not sure anybody is ready for that…

And besides, this was just a letter about how insanely beautiful you are.

Right?

Yours.

(Ok fine, let's face it…)

Hornily yours.

… Always.