The Caress of the Written Word

Three days ago I met someone who, in this short time, has spoken to the core of my being and who has touched and stroked me where I am most responsive. He has talked of things of the heart and mind, the natural world and the world of his life. We have each shared something of ourself with the other.

Today we met and spoke for several hours, feeling our way tenderly and a little cautiously at first, but seemingly knowing the path we had both chosen to take, though never directly expressing it to each other. He pronounced my height relative to his, to be perfect for kissing. There were no expectations, no goals. Only a touch here, a touch there, a soft and caring caress. The taste of his tongue, the scent of my neck. Slowly our bodies came together and I molded my shape into his. Feeling his hands caressing my soft body, I gave to him all I wanted to give and he gave this back to me as we spoke of sharing and not giving/taking. He shared with me his essence.

He honoured me with his affection and his caring, tender ways. We made soft, sweet, perfect love and I left him spent and ready for sleep.

And we did all this, through the written word.