Organic Love

Her eyes scanned his body. It was perfect. To him, it was full of the scars on his face, the one on his butt from the grafting, but that was how he saw it.

She saw him for his strength through that and other trying events, saw him for his wit and how different he wanted to remain and was (though to an extent that was vexing at times), for his heart that he wanted to close off to the world but leave open to the right ones (though he wasn’t fully sure of who those were).

She found she’d fallen back to scanning him, as it was so pleasurable. She also saw him for his body, how it was masterfully structured. He looked better than any sculpture she’d ever seen, certainly. Yes, his hair was gray, but that somehow looked good on him. She couldn’t explain it. He had a widow’s peak that went into a Terminator-style haircut. He had ironically-arched eyebrows that went with his sarcastic personality. His aquiline nose was the perfect width for its length. His lips, though seemingly too thin to him, went perfectly with his precisely square jawline. He had vanilla-caramel tanned skin that seemed never to age. If one were to guess his age whilst omitting his hair color, they’d guess he was far younger than he was. His chin came to a perfect point at the end of that utterly handsome jawline. Whenever he’d deign to smile, it made her want to sit on that smile. It also made her want to smile back, enjoying his joy. He had piercingly cerulean blue eyes that sometimes became pools of blue, seeming more like water, especially when they looked at her with that pleading that made her crave him all the more. They would become a more metallic sky blue when he was angry or withdrawn, wary of others.

Her own darker blue eyes seemed as the ocean to his sky eyes, responding in answer and darker and deeper reflection of what he felt.

She wanted to scan that body with more than just her eyes. She wanted to use her tongue on every last nano-inch of him. She wanted to taste all he felt through his sweat through all of his pores.

He had a very appealing larynx that she instinctively knew he liked sucked. She’d do that gladly. She wanted to wrap him in the heat of her desire for him, letting him know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was indeed desirable and worthy of that and of so much more than that, that the bad events in his life shouldn’t color what he thought of himself, that they in fact reflected on those who’d done them.

Even his neck itself was the right width, not too thin or thick for his shoulders or head. It went into shoulders that were strong for all that he thought he looked scrawnier than the male visual ideal. She hated his calling himself scrawny, because to her he was anything but. Besides, a lot of those men that achieved that ideal had not had the depth or inner strength to get through what he had. There was something to be said for that kind of strength, wasn’t there?

He had tighter muscle, though no less appealing for that. She honestly didn’t like men that were too bulky, that looked like banes, anyway. She liked how sleekly defined he looked.

His chest hair went in that perfect natural pattern that certain men’s did. It didn’t hide the fact that his chest had definition to it too. He had a six-pack she desired and envied all at the same time, though she wanted to accept herself even at her greater weight. If she was one to ask self-acceptance of him, she’d better accept herself too.

That six-pack went into a happy trail in the middle of that fitness V that some men get, leading to one of her favorite parts of him: her lollipop, if he’d ever let her. It was circumcised. It was tan into being pink-tipped and pulsed when hard enough to, beckoning her to it.

She knew a trick with her tongue rather than her pinky or index finger. She’d stick it in the cum hole and wriggle it around until he came. She swallowed and enjoyed every drop, then would grudgingly realize this was all in her mind, though he was real. He was all too real.