Through the looking glass redux

That smile breaks from a cautious acceptance into
something grateful and a yes she can see she is
blessed smile, blessed by the tone of her skin and its
creaminess to the touch and how it slightly pinks
under the pressure of my touch and reddens deeper when
I grip and squeeze or clench from a sure hold caused
by not being able to absorb enough of her or
the simple greed of just not wanting to let go. And
the lines and curves, round here and jutting there,
the flowing and the beauty of how it takes the form
that is only her, only her hips, breasts, nipples, all
of it, head to toe only her, each piece just hers like
the prints left by her fingers on all that she
touches. We've smiled her damp and dewy and there is a
sheen, barely there that she can feel more than we can
see and then there is the ever so slight
arch and slant of hips, not willful but primal and
provoked by everything that makes her a woman. The
very beginning of arching and opening to present and
then to accept and accomodate what only her woman soul
will allow. It's the beginning of a dance; the music
has just begun to play and we move to this melody
and this harmony sung together, a song only ours. She
can't see but can feel my fumbling at my own buttons
and clasps, each opening and baring becoming a bond of
warmth between us until there is no between, just an
us. I know urgent well but I know holding the moment
in my hands better and I think slow is just making
fast last longer. The fit is the same but bare makes
everthing different and I'm doing my own version of
primal now and do thighs ever look better than when
the knees are slightly bent? As hers are bent and
angled mine find their niche just behind her and of
course I slip between her legs because isn't that why
the bending and angling? So that I can slide my god
already throbbing cock along the path of velvet lips
like a smooth sawing into her, not really in but
back and forth along her. Grooving her into an
indescribable slick where her lips fit themselves to
the width of me and it truly is a heavenly path we've
mapped here in this mirror where we're seeing what we
feel. I want to see her eyes but I can't look away
from the slippery sliding along her but I can hear her
above my whispers and it's not always words coming
from her mouth yet I still understand everything she
says. We dance her onto her toes and then onto me
and I'm sure she's moaning "I see, I do" over and over
or maybe I just know she does.