She saw a rear end with too much padding.
He saw a great pair of hips to hold onto. An invitation.
She saw unattractive dimples all over her once-smooth thighs.
He saw, well, he didn’t see that. His eyes were all over her, checking out her lusciousness.
She saw breasts that were round and soft but had dropped – still a good view from the front but not from the side.
He saw a great rack. Period. “Boobs are good,” he said.
She saw a tummy that had been stretched three times and was now soft and wrinkly.
He saw the sinuous curve of her waist, high and thighs – one delicious continuous line.
She saw her body aging – not as fit or slim or cooperative as it used to be.
He saw a complete package that turned him on, one that he loved to touch.
He didn’t see what she saw. She was hot as hell – head to toe. He loved her and he loved what he saw.
So she started to hear him as he explained what he saw. She slowly understood. And she finally started seeing what he saw.
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