Invitation

I invited him in. I willingly gave myself to him. A package deal, it came with my mind and the inner pieces of my soul, not just my body alone.  
 
Like a good book, he read me well. He studied me and practiced his skill. He eagerly learned as he watched me respond. He run his hands across me like I came written with the most beautifully illustrated pictures.  
 
At times,  I swear it felt as if he went right through me. Like he crawled inside the deepest recesses of my being. My heart fluttering wildly in anticipation of each new touch. My breaths so labored and heavy, feeling stripped of the air I needed to breathe.  
 
We marked our lust on every square inch of those cool linen sheets. We warmed them as our bodies rolled and tumbled. We soaked them in  sweat as  our sweet love played out.  We struggled with tangled limbs. Finding a new  scene. Discovering each new chapter. Searching for deeper places to join ourselves as one, never quite close enough.  
 
My walls were down, all doors open to him. He made me writhe and quake. The joys he awakened. The ecstasy he gave. He brought me there so many times but I had no reason to count.  
 
I felt safe beneath his body and powerful atop him. He promised me heaven and  his sweet soul showed me so much more.  
 
He loved it just as much. He craved to take me there. The look in his eyes said he wanted to stay. He liked what he read, the pictures he admired.  
 
All he did was treat me like a good book, only to put me away when he reached the end. All I did was invite him in.