This piece just makes me whimper. The definition and shadows - like a mystery man of cobblestone sinews on the verge of revealing all. Reds and oranges and terra cottas and fleshes and tans blended to aching flawlessness. *sigh*
Okay, I admit it. I'm an ass enthusiast. I like the male behind. I confess. There. I said it. But, come on, don't you just want to reach out and squeeze the charming off those cheeks?
I love the play of light on tan flesh, love the cozy rustling of the sheets, the bend of the one knee contrasted against the languid flex of the other. You can almost taste the sweat off his hip - and I bet it tastes just like cinnamon.