Oranges

      Here he sits at the table. One of his legs is bent at the knee, and the second one is on the floor. A man of a moxie – he is gracile with his jet black hair. Huge brown eyes underlined with dark make-up crayon are looking at the plate, vase and knife near him. There is a dozen of bright oranges in it – ideal shaped and flavored. His graceful hand with French manicure and large rings took the knife and cut the pile from the orange. The second one bites the flash and drops of juice splash everywhere.       He blinks and licks sweet “lines” from the fingers, then takes one more slice and put it to the mouth. His soul is full of pleasure. Oranges are as sweet as juice that is splattered on his face. There is no tone on it and He wipes juice with his sweet fingers.
He put his legs down, one is upon the other – as usual. Damn. His legs are so hot and none of bitchy models does have the same. Despite he wears baggy blue jeans and an old t-shirt, his body still looks amazing. Every move of him manners me stop and stare, it caught all my attention. He takes another half of an orange. He smiles.       A little bit female lips transform him. Now he looks like a baby: like a little boy left alone with his favorite fruits. He loves these citruses terribly and while he eats one of them – inviting aroma spreads all over the house.
Little miss innocence. A slice by slice.
And I damn love to watch him.