she loved being naked in front of him. not because she had large ******* or a nice ***. she didn't have that. every rose has her thorns. but the way he looked at her when she's bare. her consistently dry lips he made moist, kissed the constellations of pimples on her back, he made the hair on the back of her neck stand up every time she would feel his breath in the middle of her legs. he loved all her imperfections. he traced her every fault line with his tongue and she blossomed for him. she didn't need to ask if he would still love her when she was no longer young and beautiful for she knew that he would love every wrinkle she would have on her face. every white hair, every sagged piece of skin she would have. he was the kind of man that could kiss all her imperfections away.