Without the underwear

He was waiting for her naked on the bed, animated by the spirit of the game.
She got out of the shower, dried off and put on a white cotton T-shirt.
He grabbed the magic trinket.
He reached him and placed himself on top of him, like an ivory tower.
He looked into her eyes and whispered funny things, like an amused child.
With his left hand he stroked her hip, discovering, to his immense delight, that she hadn't been wearing her panties.
“Ah, bad Naughty! You're without the underwear! " he exclaimed.
She laughed happily.
She was splendid in her overwhelming desire for tenderness and passion.
He furrowed her side, with his left hand, felt the texture of the skin, soft and of an ivory tone, being captured by the desire to eat it.
She made him hers.
She knew how to catch him.
She looked at her breasts thinking: "I have really great tits!".
He closed his eyes for a moment, entering the dimension of introspection.
They were beautiful.
Alive.
They were two people who really loved each other.
This opportunity only happens once in a lifetime and they were aware of it.
They embraced.
He stroked her lush breasts, which smelled of freshly baked bread.
She smiled at him, graceful.
Her long brown hair floated in the air.
They made love, survivors of many battles.
She watched him attentively, while he lost himself in the pleasant sensations that came from his body of a man thirsty for the kisses of his partner.
There were none but them, there, in that bedroom.
An ancient and reserved rite was celebrated: an act of boundless beauty between two people who want each other.
There was no interference in there.
Inside, in their bodies.
On their limbs.
In their mouths.
There was only the majestic promise that lovers are renewed every day: to give themselves joy, attention and lightness.
He watched her, thinking that there could be nothing in the world more beautiful than her magnetic gaze.
She cradled him in her arms, as only a conscious woman can do with her man.
Together they were splendid.
Bold.
Reckless.
Being free to manifest their inner child, they played chasing each other, finding each other and hugging each other, kissing their hands, hair and eyes.
They had gained the freedom to show themselves naked.
She was beautiful as a Nymph.
He, in admiring her, was pure poetry.
They had chosen themselves.
They had crossed many tides.
They had rediscovered themselves.
He had learned to love.
She, in lovingly caring for her partner, had found an internal strength that had saved her.
They had treated each other.
There was no psychosis in their gestures.
She placed her feet on his chest inviting him to play.
He smiled at her.
Together they were strong.
Happy.
What did two like them have to be afraid of?
They communicated in the depths of the most remote thoughts.
They were in harmony.
They would have defended their Love from everything.
They waited for the others to awaken to march happily and peacefully towards the Revolution of consciences, which would lead them to a New Age of Light.
For them, each new day was a possibility.