Saturday, 04/03/2010 - 12:51 a.m.

We laid in the dark, the Xmas lights overheard twinkling merrily and casting shadows across us. He was mostly flat on his back, propped up on pillows and I was pressed as tight as I could get to his chest with his arms around me. Neither of us had our glasses on and the frenzied rough kissing/hairpulling part had subsided for the moment. I had taken my shirt off some while ago but still had my brassiere on and his shirt was long gone, so I screwed up my courage and asked, "Will you unhook me?". It took him several tries to unhook my bra and we got the giggles about it.

Sometimes I'm very self-conscious about my torso - I have surgery scars and stretch marks and a very old navel ring scar. Sometimes I'm self-conscious about my tits - they have stretch marks and a gigantic brown birth mark and are by no means porn-slut perky.

But in that flattering soft light, I wanted this man to see me, scars and imperfections and all. I wanted him to touch me, not in a sexual foreplay way, but in a skin-to-skin contact way.

I pressed my naked torso against his naked torso for the first time ever since we'd gotten involved and said softly, "Kiss me."

And he did.

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