When I came home, Angie was napping naked in the bed.

It was a warm day, and instead of turning the air conditioner on, she had stripped down and opened the windows.

She lay on the bed uncovered, except for a small bit of sheet that obscured her round buttocks.

As she slept, I looked at her body, the body I loved, and my erection began to grow as I started to undress. Without saying a word, I stepped closer to the bed, and placing my weight on the bed so I wouldn't startle her awake, I kissed my sleeping angel lightly on the cheek.

She smiled in her half-sleep, a sighing grin that told me she was glad I was home.

I started at Angie's feet, kissing my way up her left leg.

I am always amazed at Angie's scent, sweet and clean and light. Her scent can fill me with desire as quickly as the sight of her, or the sound of her voice, or her touch. As I kissed upward on her leg, I began to smell her second scent, the scent of her flower, the one that welcomes only me. I moved the sheet aside and began kissing Angie's bottom, round and firm, as she opened her legs just a bit to give me a glimpse of her tiny flower, winking shyly from between them. I teased the cleft between her legs, her warmth, the mouth of her flower with my tongue, but I did not linger there.

Not yet.

I kissed her hips, and up her sides and spine, neglecting nothing.

I loved the touch of her kisses, and wanted to return them to her.

I knew there were indescribable places, places without names, places that needed kissing and would send tingles deep into her being as my lips visited there. As I kissed upward on Angie's body, toward her neck, I straddled her, resting my throbbing manhood between the cheeks of her bottom, sliding it slowly back and forth there, massaging her and me. I kissed her neck, touching for the first time her beautiful breasts with my fingers. She sighed quietly, her eyes closed, her tiny sweet smile never leaving. Growing impatient with me, Angie rolled onto her back and threw her arms around my neck, pulling me to her mouth. God I love this moment, the moment I daydream about when I should be working, the moment that makes me drive too fast getting home in the afternoon. Sometimes Angie and I play like animals, noisy, sweaty, rambunctious, and rude.

But as necessary and as perfect as it is to be one like that, as much as I love to hear Angie mix my name with Taiwanese exclamations of pleasure and words like "play" and "length" and "cunt" in her sweet accented English, I relish making love to Angie as we were about to do more than I relish any other activity. Angie and I kissed tenderly as our hands explored our bodies. I kissed her breasts, teasing her nipples with my tongue and teeth. Angie took me in her hand and guided me inside her waiting flower, and we made love. Slow, unrushed, perfect. As we came, we looked into each other's eyes.

Kissing, loving, loving each other, loving the moment.

As we lay together in the bed afterward, as the afternoon light turned the room a warm orange, I said my first words since coming home.

The most important words I can think these days: "I love you, Angie."