Finding Perfection

"It's a beautiful morning, isn't it, Miss?" After looking me over, his smile broadened, then – after pausing for effect – he asked in a slightly deeper, very confident voice: "Would you like anything else?"

I just smiled, shook my head 'no', and collected my package. His attention was flattering and reassuring, no doubt, but I'm uncomfortable speaking with strangers. He was correct though – it is a beautiful morning.

As I walked back to my car, I thought about that – about the beauty of an Autumn morning, the clarity of the cold sky, the sound of the first falling leaves, the welcome scent of moist air. Fall is the season that most viscerally represents change, and change speaks to me in very deep and personal ways.

Normally I'd consider changing my plans and, instead, continue my walk, allow my mind to travel, and be willing to be surprised at the destination. But not today. No. My lover is expecting me.

I placed the package in the passenger side seat, settled in, and started my car. "One more stop." I thought to myself.

+++++++++++++++++

I pulled into the parking spot beneath the deck stairs. I always park here, and not just because it's usually free. I park here for practical reasons, and for personal ones. Symbolically, it makes me feel closer to him.

The stairs will lead me to a second floor deck that will serve as my private entry into the first floor of his two-story apartment. I love the sound of these stairs. The noises are friendly, and welcoming, regardless if I'm wearing sneakers or heels. Today the stairs echo with the sound of my boots. Although, admittedly, the echo from kitten-heeled boots is slight.

After unlocking the door, I return the key to its private space within my faux snakeskin handbag. Once inside, I rest my handbag and the package on the floor, and turn to face the door. Deliberately, and very slowly, I close it, and with my forehead against its window, I lock it. I take a deep breath, and rejoice in silence within the space that knows me best.

And while I might be silent, the apartment isn't. I can hear the second floor shower running and so I know I have precious few moments to myself. I remove my oval shaped black sunglasses and moss green, midnight black, and eggshell white scarf, place them on the console by the door, and almost immediately reach back for the glasses. The open design holds such beautiful light, but the hardwoods can be a little unforgiving with the reflection.

The reflection is a good reminder, however, so I remove my boots and pull from my bag a black pair of soft ballet flats. I chasten myself. "These are not your typical fantasy shoes." But at least they won't clash with my black hose.

The shoes render me audibly invisible. I bring the package to the table and unload some fresh bagels, a few apples and oranges, and the most fragrant peaches that I can recall. I love the way peaches feel. "He'll want a proper breakfast." I remind myself, but these will help round out the meal.

Hearing the shower stop tells me that I don't have much longer. I walk across the room, past the kitchenette, to the bathroom. The mirror is being kind to me today. My short black hair looks playful with my fresh pixie cut. I'd like to wear it longer, but this style best serves my professional and personal goals. "But I'd grow it for him." I thought to myself.

My eye shadow is fine. Earth tones are quite kind to me and, when used appropriately, draw focus to my green eyes. And to me, that's very important – I want to be seen. I add just a little liner under my lower lash line, more for my own confidence than anything else. My lips are full, and because of that I don't have to work hard for attention. I touch up my nude lipstick and add just a hint of gloss.

I finish preparing myself and I smile back at the mirror. I feel beautiful – I'm ready to ascend the stairs.

+++++++++++++++++

I open his door quietly and steal a glance before he recognizes that I'm there. He's gorgeous. His tall, muscular, fat-free body is visible all but that hidden by a tightly wrapped white towel. My secret intrusion is short lived.

"Hey baby, when did you get here?"

I answer as I remove my flats. "I've only been here a few minutes. I was a little early ..."

"You can't be. There is no early or late for you here."

My God, my heart almost explodes every time he says such sweet things! "You're sweet."

"And you're too far away. Come over here."

As I walk to him slowly, I untie the belt and remove my eggshell white cable knit sweater. I toss it upon his chair and make it to his arms before he can comment.

With his hands on my hips, he holds me tightly and gently kisses my cheek and then neck. "I've missed you." He breathes into my ear.

Words cannot describe the emotions he invokes, perhaps because they – like the two of us – are studies in contrast. His huge, powerful hands make me feel very small within them, and yet I only truly feel safe when held by him. And when he holds me, my slight 5'7" frame disappears into his massive 6'4" body. Sometimes I think it's his heat that keeps me alive.

"Hey – are you wearing new perfume?"

I hoped he'd notice. His attention to detail is unbelievable. He sees things I never could, and then he shows his love by sharing them with me. "Kind of."

"Kind of?"

"Yeah. I tried some on this morning. If you like it, I'll buy a bottle."

He smiled his approval. "I'll buy it for you!"

"You are so sweet!" But I won't let him purchase it for me. I'm not sure I want him to know how expensive Guerlain's carnal elixir fresh kiss perfume is! It's good enough that he likes it.

He pushes me back. "Now let me look at you." His eyes travel my body. "You look beautiful." His long pause and careful glance convinces me of his sincerity. "I'll get dressed. I want to show you off, let's go for a walk."

"Not yet."

"Not yet?"

"Not yet." I pull myself close again, this time resting my hands on his towel, and stare into his eyes. "Not yet."

With recognition, a smile grows across his face. "Whatever you want."

I shake my head 'no' and correct him. "I have al I want right now, what I am looking to do is satisfy a need." He looked back at me with affection, so I spoke again.

"I need you to lay down and watch me." And without a word, he dropped his towel, moved to his king sized bed, and lay upon it. I was mesmerized by his movements and quietly thanked God that I was so lucky.

He didn't watch passively. "I love those earrings. They match your eyes." I smiled at the complement, knowing that he was correct. But they matched more than my eyes – the butterfly wing inspired design reminds me that to be a butterfly you need to give up being a caterpillar. He makes me feel like a butterfly.

"I'm leaving them on. But you can tell me what you want me to take off." I wink at him.

While slowly turning, he voices his first request. "The skirt."

"As you wish." I slowly remove the thin black leather belt that serves no other purpose than to complete my outfit. "I should tie you up with this."

"You can tie me up if you want, baby. I trust you."

And I knew he did, but hearing the words still made me smile. "Maybe later." Then I unbutton, and wiggle out my tight, moss green, suede pencil skirt.

"Goddam you're beautiful! Take off that shirt." Without hesitation I pull my black, long sleeve wrap top over my head to reveal a black, cotton, plunge neck nighty. The hemline sits just 2 inches above my thigh high stockings. I'm hoping he likes this, I'd prefer something more traditionally sexy, but it's impossible to find lingerie for someone as flat chested as I am.

"You have no idea what you do to me, baby. Take off your panties."

"Not my hose?" This was a game – I knew he'd want me to leave them on.

"No."

"Not my nighty?" This was the same game.

"No. Your panties."

"I'm not wearing any."

"Naughty! Have you been teasing other boys?" Although unintentional, this stung.

"You know better." The look on his face told me that my voice carried the hurt. "You are the only man for me."

His knowing stare brought a surge of emotion, and I almost shed tears when he replied. "I know, baby, believe me, I know."

Recapturing my composure, I chastised him. "I took them off downstairs." And then with a little smile. "I had some hopes ..."

"I'm hoping your wishes are the same as my needs."

I answer with lust in my eyes. "Your needs have always turned into my dreams. Now lay down in the middle of the bed."

I gazed at him while I walked around the edge of the mattress to the foot of bed. The soles of his feet, ghostlike relative to his dark chocolate skin, rested two feet apart. This allowed a clear view of his testicles. They amaze me – he's big and yet they always seem disproportionately large.

The bed creaks just a little as I climb up on the foot of it. And he sighs as he feels my stockings along the outside of his shins. He gives in to my subtle pressure, and lifts his testes and moves his legs together. I'm mesmerized by his beauty.

I take his penis into my hand as I scale his body. He's large, but not cartoonishly so. There is nothing cartoonish about us. His penis is 7.5 inches long and has the untapering thickness of a can of red bull. That thought makes me quietly laugh. In many ways he is my bull, but a gentle and loving one.

It's the head of his penis that captures my imagination. The wide swelling at the base slowly tapers to a narrow tip. He was made to find space where there is none, and that's where he keeps me: balanced on the line between reality and fantasy. I gently kiss it and it jumps in my hand.

Slowly I lick his length, taking time to lick my hand every few seconds. Now, with his head in my right hand, I use my moistened thumb to slowly stroke him. This, along with kissing and licking his shaft brings him to full strength.

I scale him a little further as his breathing becomes more labored. Although slightly uncomfortable, I curl my head down, cover his navel with my hair, and take him into my mouth. His taste is perfect, and I would stay here forever, but the pressure of his hands on the back of my head and the length and pace of his thrusts tells me that he needs me.

I scale further and gently bite his lower lip. "You know." I whispered. "There are some people that would disapprove of this."

"I don't care. I want you to sit that sweet white ass down on my black cock." I kiss his chin. This will be the extent of our dirty talk. Not that it's offensive, but we are quiet lovers. Or rather he is, and I used to be. He has brought things out in me that I would have considered unimaginable before.

I rock back and forth over him, feeling the heat of his body rub across me, but I won't tease him for long.

"Damn baby, you're ready for me."

"I want always to be ready for you." I confessed. Although no one could be ready for all he has provided.

We clasp fingers as I press down on him. His smile pierces my heart as his penis pierces my body. I rock slowly, with determination, gathering my courage. I try, and fail, to take him all at once. In frustration, and pain, I strike his chest with the side of my fist.

With my hands now free, I rest them upon his chest and slowly rock down his length. It's a slow process, and he takes my breath away more than once, but the feeling of him completely in me makes everything worth it.

"Mmmmm, baby, you feel so good." I take his comment as a victory and slowly rotate my hips. As I do, I chant "only you know" in my mind. I rotate without lifting, and would do this forever, if not for his instinctual thrusts. When I feel these I curl my back, pulling him halfway out, and then quickly curl my stomach forward pulling him back into me.

I repeat the movement slowly at first, and then more quickly. As I do a disconnected string of approval slips from my lips. "Jesus. Oh my God. You're so big. I love this. Oh God, oh God, oh God." And while perfect, this is not how we'll finish.

The time between his moans presages the outcome, but only when his hands grab my hips do I know for sure. Effortlessly his lifts me, and twists so that I am on my back. He is out of me for only a few lonesome seconds, and I scream at the force of his reentry.

And he surprises me with his pace, which is slower than normal. I gladly accept his lips as he makes love to me. He is 100% controlled power, and I relish each deep thrust. Only my body is weak, and although my heart wants this to last forever, I confess. "I'm close."

He needs no more encouragement. He wraps his right arm under my left knee and lifts it to my chest. The pain is more than paid for by the pleasure. He pounds into my body like a man possessed, like an explorer seeking to find – and own – new territory.

I continue to make no sense. "Oh God, oh God, oh God, ..." Until, that is, my body makes perfect sense. My orgasm is powerful and he ignores my nails as they dig into his perfection and hold on for dear life.

The pressure of his release is massive, and he grinds himself into me to ensure that I receive all of him. Our bodies glow with sweat, he releases my leg, and leans down to kiss me.

I wrap my legs tightly around him to ensure that the moment doesn't end. "Don't move. Please don't leave me."

"Baby, I'm never going to leave you." He truly has no idea about the strength of his words.

We lay together, bound by our passion. As he softens, my muscles recover territory, and in this way the product of our love remains trapped within me. And I wouldn't change a thing.