From thoughts I’ve had lately helped along by Andy’s weekly challenge. Do participate.
Prompt: Artificial Intelligence
Our joke is asking him why his lashes are so long. I wake up, let my eyes linger on the sooty lashes fanning along his cheeks, marvel at how handsome he is, and kiss him awake. The question is always the first thing I ask him because I know he’ll lift those full lips into a sleepy smile I’ll carry in my heart all day.
He calls me beautiful and I never understand why. I push down the blankets to reveal my naked body, pointing out how at twenty-nine I’ve got small breasts that don’t point north and an ass bigger than a car. That makes him chuckle when he pulls me close, burying his face between my breasts as he palms the ass I dislike so much.
You’re not artificial, he murmurs, his breath hot on my skin as he squeezes then teases me. I love how real you are, how soft and full, how you respond when I touch you. You’re intelligence astounds me and it’s wrapped up in this gorgeous package.
It makes me sigh like a stupid girl in love. When he touches me and says those sweet things, I wonder why I worry so much.