She wakes in beauty, Byron’s muse

 She wakes in beauty, Byron’s muse.

The morning light creeps

through our bedroom window,

caresses her face, breasts,

casts a moving shadow

down her soft belly to her sex.

She sits up and stretches,

grabs her toes, turns to me,

rests her elbow on the pillows.

She shakes her hair and smiles.

“Good morning, sleepy head.

“I must look a mess,” she says.

“No, you are lovely,” I say.

See video click here

“You are hard again, I see.”

She smiles, still wet






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