The Fresh Morning Air

The birds were singing their morning songs outside of the bedroom window, while gathered at the feeder.
I was draped in a set of our Egyptian cotton sheets, still frolicking in the last dreams of the night, before I fully slipped awake into the morning.
My bronzed, heaving, manly chest was exposed from the cool fabric, while my bare legs and firm, yet supple ass were silently caressed by the spun comfort of the elegant material. My face, neck and strong angular jaw felt as though they lay upon a pillow of delicate rose petals.
I mean, let's face it...I looked like a sex-god; the male version of Jane Seymour.

Will had awoken earlier and had already watched the morning news out in the living room, while drinking his morning coffee. He had shut the bedroom door so as not to disturb me.

As he opened the door and walked back into the room, my Greek Adonis-like body; lean, muscular and tan from the summer days, rustled between the sheets. The sun poured in through the windows and the shears billowed in a slight breeze. I turned to look at him with my piercing blue eyes, exuding pure animal magnetism, knowing full well of my status as nothing short of a deity - the object of all raw lust and with my finest scratchy, morning Kathleen Turner voice, I said, "Good morning, Will..."
and he replied, "GOD! THE WHOLE ROOM SMELLS LIKE FARTS!!"