I Watch Her Sleep

I watched her sleep. I watched her every movement as she shifted from side to side. Her hair, deep brown with soft rusty red highlights, splayed across her pillow. I watched, in the pale light of the breaking day, her breathing, deep and steady. I watched as the first rays of sunlight fell across her face bringing out her high cheek bones, highlighting the freshness of her beauty unencumbered by makeup and the trappings of society. I shifted my gaze, watching her move, turning first to her side and then to her back. The rise of her breasts, covered only with a light sheet which served only to make the scene more erotic than esoteric. The curve of her hips, the taper of her legs. I watched her sleep.

Suddenly I was snapped out of my visual repast by the sound of a soft moan. So soft it was almost hidden in the sounds of the new dawning day. Her full lips parted as the sound escaped again from them. A soft moan, not derived from a nightmarish dream but from something entirely different. I watched as her breasts started to rise and fall a bit faster. Her nipples tightening, growing under the sheet. Again the moan, this time deeper and longer followed by a shifting of her legs, thighs moving together, shifting against each other.

The dream was taking its toll as I could tell from the subtle movements of her body. The shifting legs, the slight rise and fall of her hips. She was alive in her dream world, her body being pleasured, her mind conveying the dream state to her sleeping body. She responded to her dream lover as she would have responded if she were awake. A slowly creeping blush rising from her breasts, covered her chest and moved towards her face. A thin sheen of perspiration coated her blushing skin. Her hands pulled away the sheet uncovering her breasts, nipples swollen, hardened and red like plump ripe strawberries. Her legs opened as she yielded to her dream lover.

Kicking her legs the sheet floated away exposing her. I took my time looking over her, memorizing every inch as if I had never seen it before. The softness of her skin, the hollow of her navel. I marveled at the tightness of her stomach as I watched the muscles ripple up and down from her movements. The subtleness of her mound as it rose from the juncture of her thighs, the dark brown landing strip she had manicured with pride. Lower my eyes wandered taking in her beauty, the shape of her thigh, the slight dimples along her knees, the tight muscles of her calves. The high arch of her foot, the toes with nails painted a pale pink. I looked for imperfections and found even they contributed to her uniqueness. The scar from a bicycle wreak many years ago, a burn mark gained from a camping trip we had gone on. These were not true imperfections, they were life marks gathered to make her what she was, beauty marks that enhanced her.

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