I don’t like my freckles…those small brown spots on my face and body. I may not have much, but the few I do have are noticeable, especially on my fair skin. I am just so self conscious of them, it is ridiculous. Like right now, I’m standing in front of a mirror, wearing only my bra and panties, gazing at my refection. And all I see are my freckles, taunting me. In my eyes, they look bigger than they really are, and I mean much bigger. I would sigh, cursing at my imperfections. Just then, arms encircle my waist as your face comes into view, your dark eyes looking at me in the mirror.

“Good morning,” you would murmur, the stubble on your chin brushing against my skin.

I turn around, touching your face. “You really need to shave. I don’t like how prickly it feels.”

You give me a sly grin, your eyes sparkling. “You weren’t complaining last night.”

My face turns crimson, completely mortified. “That was then, this is now,” I snap. “And you still need to shave.”

I turn back around and face the mirror again, muttering to my self, as you silently watch, completely amused.

“What are doing?” you would ask, an dark eyebrow raised.

“I’m just wishing my freckles would disappear.”

Suddenly, you turn me around, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Well, I don’t want them to disappear. I happen to like them.”

You then kiss the two freckles above my right eyebrow, your hands cradling my face. You then kiss the speck on the right side of my nose, so very gentle. You stop to look into my eyes, your expression serious.

“There is nothing wrong with your freckles. It is what makes you unique.”

Your lips then brush against two spots on my collarbone, feeling your tongue. You then kiss a speckle on my left breast, eliciting a gasp. You flash me a grin.

“I also like the little sounds you make.”

You proceed to go lower, with a kiss on my stomach, then on my thigh.

I guess my freckles are not so bad after all…