Visions of Roxana

Tyrone had been blind for most of Saint Val’s. With me as guide, he had fed and bathed, and now, still silk-scarf-eyed, he whispered gently:

“I like to look at you.”

His hands began to explore my body, his body to rock over mine. With head motionless, he started to talk about me, whispering with warm breath against my ear:

“I like your colors, Anna. Here, where you’re white and pink, and these blue lines.”

His fingers found the veins on my breasts, softly touched my nipples.

“I like all your freckles, and how singular they are. Such dark spots, like periods all by themselves, and here, where they’re light and profuse.”

As he withdrew slightly to touch my pubic hair, his wet penis slid out and lay big and warm against me…