In My Dreams: 03

I slept late that Saturday morning and when I awoke it was 8:45am. Downstairs, I smelled the enticing aroma of fresh brewed coffee and so I pulled myself out of bed, shaved and showered. I threw on my Saturday shorts and a freshly laundered tee shirt and walked downstairs looking for my wife. When I walked into the kitchen I expected to see her but found the kitchen empty. I looked in the den and still no sign of her, so I headed for the next best thing, at that time of the morning, a fresh, hot cup of coffee. Maybe she ran out for a quick errand?

The warm, pleasant aroma of the coffee hit me as I filled the cup and I watched as the steam swirled above the mug. I took a sip and looked through the kitchen window toward our back yard. The sight of my wife, standing stark, naked immediately caught my attention. She had a cup of coffee in one hand and was bent over looking at the newly blooming June flowers. The sun was just coming over the roof of the house, and it bathed her in warm, morning light giving her a golden aura due to the reflection off the little hairs of her nude body.

It gave me a secret thrill to see her standing naked right in our backyard. We lived in a neighborhood with houses a couple of hundred feet away so while we are not right on top of our neighbors we could still see each other. The possibility of being observed was very much real, which made what she was doing so out of character. How many times had I suggested we spend the day naked? The simple act of being naked together was intoxicating. The unspoken possibilities of what might happen between two naked lovers. What secrets will they share between themselves?

She was beautiful. She stood at an angle with her back to me. In every age, we marvel at the beauty of the female form. A woman's lovely bottom, the curves of her body, the way her breasts hang in seductive invitation. Does it demean woman to acknowledge the beauty of the form they alone possess? I struggle to see how. How can one separate the fact that she is a human with needs and feelings and thoughts but at the same time her every movement is an invitation to sex? Sometimes, I want to live exclusively on one side of that line. I relate to the world through my body and my senses but I also relate to the world through my wife's body through the pleasure she gives me both physical and my shared and unshared fantasies. Her simple act of standing naked in the sunlight gives me more pleasure than she will ever know. She embodies the sacred geometry artist from every age struggle to capture, to understand its weight, form and presence. The nude woman is alone a wondrous gift. Do woman feel the same about men?

Last night, we had slow, drawn out sex. My memories were so sharp now, her soft caresses, moist kisses, the feeling of her tongue playing in my mouth. I could feel my prick sliding deep into her, pushing up against her depths. Then I felt the ridges of her pussy wall tug and try to hold me in just a second longer while I slowly drew my prick back out of her. I think to myself I must remember her smells and the taste of her fluids so the experience remains with me.

Looking at her standing in the garden I could still feel her soft, pliable breasts in my hands. What does it mean that sometime I want to be rough with her? She wasn't cruel or mean to me but sometime I want to slap her tits, hard. To see them bounce under the force of my hand, to hear the crack of my hand against her tender skin, to hear breathe suddenly drawn in. I want to feel her tender breast under the hard stroke of my hand, to twist her nipples till she shrieks in pain. Am I wrong to want to place my hard prick between her breast and squeeze them around it, pumping until my semen sprays on her neck and face? Does this mean I love her? Does it mean I secretly want to humiliate her because I enjoy her standing naked in our backyard? Or does it mean I want to experience the full intensity of a sexual relationship with this woman, to understand everything she has to offer and then to discover more and in doing so discover who I am?

Now my hands explore the crevice between her ass cheeks feeling the softness of her skin and her crinkled asshole. I loved pressing my fingers deep into her ass because I know it embarrassed her and she can't understand why this was anything I would want to do. I loved making her think or feel slightly uncomfortable because I knew the unorthodox really does turn her on. I knew she like the attention to her ass regardless of what she said but the idea of putting my finger where she shit makes her uncomfortable. It is the uncomfortable I wanted to explore. Nothing was too much. Everything was not enough. What could this naked woman do that I couldn't love simply because it was her?

So I watched her nakedness and I knew that it was all right there in front of me: life, death, love, hate, religion, good, bad, moral, immoral, the highs, the low, a grain of sand to the infinite universe. The meaning of life stood before me in the form of a naked woman.

In the next moment, I felt a kiss on my cheek.

"Hi, dear. Did you sleep well? I did," she said. "I feel so warm and yummy this morning."

"Mmmm, I thought. Life can be so warm and yummy when a naked women stand before you."