The Geography of a Lover

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His hair is so soft, baby soft in fact. I am not the only person to have commented on it and when it gets a bit longer it starts to twist into delicate little curls. It is all grey now, a dark silvery grey and sometimes he comments on how old he looks, but I love it.

They say the eyes are the window to the soul and his are no exception to that. They twinkle most often with mischievousness but also with joy, happiness, and a dirty wickedness that makes me squirm and sometimes when we watch sappy movies together he will cry right along with me and I love him all the more for being vulnerable as well.

When he is concentrating he does this thing with his mouth where he kind of purses his lips. His lips are soft and sensuous and he is the best kisser I have ever had the pleasure of kissing, apart from when he is being silly and pretends to lick my face or give me slobbery kisses that make me shriek and wriggle away from him.

Across his chest is a smattering of hair, it is a different texture to the hair on his head but still soft in its own way. It is peppered with white hairs and I find it insanely sexy. One of my favourite things is laying with my head on his chest and running my fingers through his chest hair. I could lie like that for hours.

His shoulders are broad and strong and well-defined. They are one of my favourite parts of his body, there is something so very male about them. On one of his biceps he has a tattoo, the tattoo he got while I was getting the M on my back. His forearms are lightly covered with dark hair which tapers off at his wrists. His hands are large and his fingers both long and thick. His nails are always short and clean. His hands and arms are decorated with a variety of scars that he has picked up over the years of manual work combined with an inability to feel any pain in that part if his body. He often has little cuts and scrapes or burn marks on his hands but despite all that they are amazingly soft and always, no matter what the temperate is, warm. They are the hands that touch me in so many ways, brushing the hair from my face, putting on my collar, spanking my bum and pushing them inside my cunt until I come on them.

His belly is full and round. He often makes disparaging remarks about it but I love him just the way he is. The only reason I would desire him to change it is to make him healthy because as I have told him many time, dying is not allowed.

His cock is beautiful. Both flaccid and erect and all the stages in between, I adore it. I love touching it, I love exploring it, I love seeing it, I love tasting it. I love when it is inside me. He is circumcised and I know that is an increasingly contentious subject but for him it is how he has always been and he is completely comfortable with it and so I feel completely fine saying I love that he is that way. His cock always sits slightly to the left, even if I try to rearrange it for him, and yes I do totally do that, it will always end up back in what is clearly its natural position. I think it is because his right testicle naturally sits slightly in front of the left one. I have no idea if other men are like this, I will happily admit I have never studied another man’s genitals to quite the same degree I have his. However I have encountered my fair share of male bits and I can safely say that he has the biggest set of nuts I have ever come across, excuse the pun.

Sometimes I wonder how he has such shapely legs, it is not like you are going to find him at the gym or out for a run but I guess it is genes or something. They are slim and muscular and covered with a soft downy hair.

He has the most perfect little bottom. Seriously it is tiny and pert and fucking adorable. I have only given it a spank once when he was going upstairs in front of me and ‘something came over me’. Once upstairs he returned the favour but I can definitely say I never left a hand print unlike him.

His back is long, at the top it is broad and defined by his shoulder blades but then is slowly tapers in until it meets with his narrow hips and small bottom. It is decorated with acne scars that I know left way more than just a physical mark on him growing up but to me they are just a part of his beauty, they are a part of his story and what makes him, him and I love spending time rubbing moisturiser into his back and listening to the noises he makes when I do.

Beauty is not about perfection in my opinion but about strength and confidence and grace. It is about twinkling eyes, and wide smile that shows off slightly crooked teeth. It is about strong hands and gentle touches, it is about softness and hardness, it is about curves and angles, it is about the scars and moles that decorate the skin. Beauty is about life and truth and the geography of the flesh and the maps that we create of our lovers with our eyes and hands and mouths.