ON A RAINY DAY, ON A SUNDAY

ON A RAINY DAY, ON A SUNDAY

By: Maan “Maggie” Villar, The World According to Maggie V

I remember a couple of peculiar things about you:

You always told me you loved to make love to me on rainy days –

With the soft pitter-patter of rain on your window sill,

And the gray of clouds hovering outside and dimming your room,

Chills from the cold meeting our skins,

And you wrap your strong arms around my waist and pull me close…

It made me feel loved,

It made me feel home…

You make love to me romantically and softly on normal days,

Passionately and hard on special ones…

I feel your manliness,

Your familiar rough,

The scent of your skin,

And its incandescent glow right after you release…

One thing about you is you kiss my tears of pleasure away,

Right after I reach my climax,

And softly blow on the back of my neck,

That it makes me crazy,

Damn,

You were so good…

But sex and attraction aside,

Come nighttime,

When I pretend to be asleep at your side,

You pull your fleece blanket right below my chin,

And I feel you observing me…

You think I am asleep…

And I am warmed when you give me a kiss,

On the lips,

And on the forehead,

Right before you saunter to your side of the bed,

And I hear your silenced breathing and cute snores…

The best thing happens when I wake up before you do in the morning,

That picture of the moment

When the first rays of the sun enter your window

And touch your skin…

You are at your most vulnerable,

Yet it is a vision,

A breathtaking moment it was.

With that soft glow from the first rays of sunrise entering your window,

And touching your skin,

You emit the man you are,

And for some reason,

The air I inhale refuses to leave my lungs,

And I fall in love you again,

That picture of you never left my mind…

On Sundays after a busy week,

When we stay in bed and talk of the most deep, innocent and mundane things,

Whispers of sweet words at noon time,

While I prance around only in your soft white shirt draping my body,

We laugh and we make love again,

Wait for our pulses to slow,

And make love even more,

Up until our backs and thighs are hardened and sore from it all…

We stare into the nothingness of space in between orgasms,

Heaving deep breaths of air,

Smiling at our accumulated skill,

We were untamed beasts,

And at the same time frail kittens when in bed,

Loving and fucking,

Weary from the physical toil,

But very content,

We are living proof that ‘the best things in life are free’…

I love who I am when I am with you,

The woman that I become in your presence,

When you tirelessly sniff on the chasm where my ears and neck meet,

Right where I spray on my perfume,

Or when you lie on my stomach and I feel motherly and peaceful,

And when you kiss my fingers even with its cracked polish…

So on a rainy day,

On a Sunday,

Make love to me again,

And on that rainy day,

On that Sunday,

I might fall in love even more…

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