When making love to a woman, start first with her eyes. Notice how they sparkle with excitement, the way little flecks of color reflect meaning as she looks back at you. See there her mind longing to reach you, to be touched in a place held back for an average embrace. When making love to a woman, start first with her eyes, and you will find the true woman, whether heavy or slight, tall or short, large breasted or small.
From her eyes, drop down the length of her nose. Trace the outline of her lips. Let her kiss your fingertips softly in return. Gently stroke her cheek, and do not lose your gaze upon her eyes. Ignite the energy, charged and excited, as electrons race through her body. Then hold her chin in the cusp of your palm, and place your lips upon her forehead, on the space between her eyes, and on the parting of her mouth. Witness all the years she has worn, the lines around her eyes, the worry and the laughter, the wear and tear of life. This is all that she has to offer you.
When you have had a good long look, notice next the tender way her neckline curves, the pulsing of her life through artery from heart to mind. See here her vulnerability. Breathe your heated breath upon her skin. Feel the way her defenses fall away, the way she finds your ear. Hear the soft moan that rumbles like distant summer thunder clouds.
Do not trespass until you know her story. Find the outline of her life in the way her body yields, in the layers and the stretches, in the scars and the pain. Only when you understand her joys and sorrows, her dreams and disappointments, can you honestly make love to a woman. If you still need to learn these things, stop, have some dinner. Wait for another day.
But if your heart knows that she is ready to meet your soul, then turn your hand and run smooth fingernails along her collar bone. Drop down the center of her breasts and glimpse the flash of lightning as her nipples dance. Oh, how she longs for you to stroke them, suckle them, knead them firmly in your hands. Take your cue by the way she arches her back to meet you. Watch the way her eyes roll behind closed lids. Listen for the gathering storm, and you will know exactly what to do.
Although she parts her legs, eager for you to find her, you may not rush ahead. Instead, rub her soft belly; follow the birth lines if she has them, and notice the way she twitches with longing. Kiss the space below her hips, at that tender tissue between bone and sinew. If a man carries the world upon his shoulders, then a woman carries the weight of her life upon her hips. It is the laundry basket overflowing, a wailing child. Have you eased her burden in any way? Thought to share the weight of her load? If you have, she will reward you now, allow you to enter her most private thoughts, offer you herself.
Gently run your fingers through the soft curly hair there. Now her knees, back up her thighs. Grab hold of her curling toes. Feel how wet she has become. The thunder clouds clash, hot fire, electricity sparks. Unfold her blooming flower; linger there until she cries out. You need not wait any longer. Now, now, she is ready to receive you. Meet her hips thrust forward to find you. Then, look into her eyes, and watch the rain begin to fall.
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