“I raised you so high that every other man on earth is now doomed to live in your shadow.” Ranata Suzuki
I find myself in a peaceful place. The grass is lush and the trees surrounding the glade are tall and old growth. A brook meanders somewhere nearby, the water sounding like laughter as if flows over rocks and stones. There is birdsong in the air and high above me, in a blue cloud hazy with cirrus clouds, a hawk rides the thermals in search of prey.
I am nude, unashamed of my less than perfect late middle-aged body. It is soft, with folds created by time and genetics. I eat as I'm supposed to, even confining myself to sugar-free cocoa, and I walk as much as I can, but I no longer obsess over my weight and appearance. I have grown comfortable with myself and all that I am, both good and bad, in spirit and in body.
You lie quietly beside me, also nude, relaxed, your arms almost supine. You seem to be dozing but I know you are awake, alert to every nuance of the world around us. You are a big man with more body hair than is currently popular but which I prefer. You are not fat nor muscular like a body builder. No, you are a man who has worked hard in his life. Your body was created from honest labor and not vanity. You are one of those men among men.
Slowly I begin to stroke you with gentle hands. Beginning with your feet, where I learn to my delight you are ticklish, then moving slowly up your legs. I feel the hard muscles in your calves beneath the coarse hair before moving on to your thighs. They are firm, heavily muscled, as if you'd ridden horses all your life.
Your sex responds to my touch, growing, swelling, throbbing, and I hear your breathing catch as I touch it. There is a part of me that responds in kind, but mostly I am simply exploring with child-like wonder that one such as you would allow me this gift. You are velvet over steel, a fitting description for a man who is both strong and tender.
Moving on to your stomach, almost flat and slightly concave, I feel the hidden “six pack” that so many men strive for. Yours is not obvious as if you spent hours in the gym, yet it is there, just beneath the surface. Your navel is an “outie,” and that makes me smile.
Your chest is broad and strong, more testament to good genetics and a life of work. I run my hand over it, enjoying the crispness of the gray-sprinkled hair beneath my fingers, and the promise of protection it seems to offer.
Your arms are long and firm, your calloused hands large with strong, square tipped fingers. You nails are short, clean, but somehow I know they've seen their fair share of rich dirt, for you are a man of the earth.
Returning to your face, I gently stroke your high cheekbones and lean cheeks dark with a late day beard. I love the way it rasps against my fingers. Your mouth is chiseled and firm, but I've seen your smiles and heard you laugh too often to believe in its sternness. It is only so when you are displeased, or when you are having an internal struggle. I smile for I know my touching you is the source of this struggle.
Your hair is still thick and wavy with only a little thinning at the crown. It is shot with silver, which enhances your rugged features that bespeak the integrity and resilience of your spirit. As so many women have said throughout time, I love running my fingers through your hair.
Your eyes are filled with fire as they meet mine. In them I see all that you are: your passion, your conviction, your honor. But mostly, I see your unwavering love for me. Your trust as you've allowed me this journey. I feel the bond between us, a living thing, tensile to everything but ourselves. Only we have the power to break it.
As I lie down upon the grass, your arms surround me, pulling me nearer as your lips cover mine, parting them so your tongue tangles playfully with mine. My last thoughts before I succumb to passion are of how grateful I am for all the trials and tribulations, all the triumphs that made us into who were are, and that ultimately brought us together.
Angela Calminetti, mother of five, New Age practitioner and gifted psychic and telepath, is proud of her family ties and does everything she can to make sure that all of her younger siblings are as happy in love and marriage as she is…whether they wa
I find myself in a peaceful place. The grass is lush and the trees surrounding the glade are tall and old growth. A brook meanders somewhere nearby, the water sounding like laughter as if flows over rocks and stones. There is birdsong in the air and high above me, in a blue cloud hazy with cirrus clouds, a hawk rides the thermals in search of prey.
