I love the smell of her. The slightest hint of perfume that fires my senses. The feel of her: smooth, soft and pleasingly warm. So warm. I stroke her skin, my stomach doing polite somersaults at the joy I take from this simple action.
I could lie here forever and a day, reveling in the delights of the flesh with my darling wife. But time rests for no man, I think, as I peel off her skin I've been wearing for the past hour.
What can I say? I guess I just can't let go.
I miss you, my love.