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She doesn’t realize I’m looking, she’s too engaged in the New York Times crossword. I was doing some reading when she caught my attention as she so often does. I smirk lightly when I notice her tongue has found refuge in the corner of her mouth as she concentrates on the crossword answers. The pen she’s using taps lightly on the paper as she’s deep in thought. My gaze moves up from the pen, till I set sight on the elegant slender digits wrapped around it. A thought comes to her and she grips the pen and writes in an answer. I bite my lower lip watching the way she holds the pen, her small hand careful in its mission to fill in the blanks.
My eyes move away from her right hand to her left. It sits idly on her leg. Her slender wrist gives way to a hand that has gotten me through many disasters with its soft, but insistent and strong guidance its assurance. My gaze moves down from her hand to the extended fingers that rest on her knee. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth when I notice her nails. She’s recently taken an interest in painting them. This time they are an electric blue and I approve. I am now completely enthralled by her, my reading forgotten.
My eyes scan back to her right hand as she writes in another answer. She moves her left to hold the paper still. Hillary sits up in her chair, bringing laser focus onto the paper. She stops writing and I can tell from her scanning eyes that she is reading another clue. She pulls the pen from the paper, my stare follows her hand as it travels to her mouth, where she presses a finger in thought against the soft buttery lips that I love to kiss. I lick my lips and shift in my chair as the small prickles of arousal work their way through my body. She absentmindedly nibbles on the tip of her finger, her concentration focused solely on the crossword. I chuckle lightly thinking about her dogged determination with everything she does. She removes her finger from her mouth I assume to fill in an answer, but now I can’t move my eyes away from that mouth.
The mouth, the conduit for the brilliant things formulated in her brain to be shared with the world. The tool that she’s used on many occasions to cut me down with an acerbic wit when merited and the instrument that soothes me and brings forth my desire when I am deserving. Her tongue sneaks out of her mouth again and takes a swipe across her bottom lip. I surprise myself when a soft groan escapes my throat. I mimic her as my own tongue attempts to wet my suddenly dry lips. She brings her bottom teeth between her lips in dogged determination. I no longer pretend to read, watching her is much more interesting. She moves and my eyes follow the movement. She’s tucked her legs underneath her. She’s wearing shorts, which I get the pleasure of seeing her in often around the house.
Her legs are still smooth, toned and beautiful. My mind flashes back to the night before when they were wrapped around my waist as I drove into her body over and over. They tightened with each thrust. I rake my sight up her legs until I get to her thighs, peeking out from her slightly raised shorts. I’d never known how to describe her body, except as curvy, but I heard a young person remark that she was thick. I loved that, and now that’s how I refer to her as, thick. She is woman, from head to toe. To the outside world, she is cold, calculating, hard edged, shrill. To me she is warm, soft, thoughtful, my girl.
I’ve looked her up and down and back again and completely worked myself into a frenzy. I now have set my sights on her face. This time a smile breaks out fully. She’s so beautiful, the fine lines framing her face make her even more so now. I love her cheeks, love kissing them sometimes even playfully pinching them, she’s my little chipmunk. Her ears are even perfection to me. I find some type of unexplained pleasure in that she never pierced them, left them untouched, perfect as nature intended. The sun briefly reflects off her deep cerulean orbs.
“William take a picture it will last longer” she suddenly states without looking away from her puzzle. I feel no shame in being caught.
“I will if you’ll take those clothes off” her breath hitches almost imperceptibly, she never looks at me only shakes her head and I am amused. If someone were ever to task me what my favorite part of her was, I’d have no problem stating everything.