He’s not so particular when it comes to the female sex, only requiring the usual accoutrements. He likes them in boots, skirts, or jeans. He likes to watch them walk, one of his favorite things. Long hair or short, doesn’t matter.
She can be tall or she can be short, he has affection for all, but some he favors a little more. He acknowledges there is no greater mystery than that of womankind and her gifts to history, how she withstands all that man has applied to her, still smiles and beguiles to rise to her destiny.
He desires and he loves, enthralled with her figure, the way she laughs, and blushes red when he’s with her. There’s nothing more divine than to see her wake from a restful slumber after he feels her shake.
This gift of soft flesh, wrapped in his arms, he’d never let her know he was already torn between her precious quirks he’d so come to admire and a cute young blond whose eyes burn with desire. He found himself in such a difficult place, for the women are a plenty. If he were intended only for one, why on earth are there so many?
(photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/yanivg/3417197925/”>YanivG</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/”>cc</a>)