The first hesitant strokes of a caress descend softly, timidly.
Like being tickled - by butterfly wings.
As his touch grew in assurance and strength I let out a deep sigh.
As he kneaded my skin I laid my hand on his body.
We both drew back and shared a smile.
I looked down. He laughed a little.
And I shook my head - dazed at the contradictions enveloped in front of me.
Despite the wrinkles in my skin I felt so young. Like a child.
And I smiled.