Kiss

I’d just reentered the dating scene. I was awkward, nervous, unsure of the rules. Looking back, how stupid was I? I was on a business trip and she was showing me around town. It was nice and friendly and sweet, but we had talked a little about attraction. We had admitted desire and now she was in my hotel room, it was late. Were we were going to just play Scrabble?

I sat across from her, heart beating a little faster every time I looked up at those bright eyes and then down at that figure. It seems wrong to distill someone into one characteristic, I mean she was smart and quirky and fun, but it always comes back to those tits. It seemed like I spend almost every second near her trying not to look at them.

There were other charms, her eye for details that caught me off guard, her various knowledges and interests. She was awkward too, but in a different way and for different reasons. As time goes by and it is just a memory I remember the physical things, the way her lips made me swoon.

When she said “So I thought you were going to kiss me.” I was struck dumb by the embarrassment of not acting on the obvious hints she was dropping.

“I am! I mean, I was going to… I mean…” I don’t know what I was trying to say, but then I was on the couch next to her, our Scrabble game half finished and I was smiling and she was kind of smirking amusedly and then I was in that trajectory, that all or nothing move in.

We were both laughing a little and then we weren’t. That first contact, that first kiss with new lips, that point at the apex of flirting and smiling and touching and then moving in closer and closer… then the brush of soft dry skin on skin. Then pushing together, your bodies getting closer and hands falling onto hips or backs. You become hyperaware. Aware of where your hands are on her and the warmth of her body under her clothes. Aware of where her hands are on you and when they tighten or loosen or claw at your shirt, hungry for more contact.

We kissed, a chaste kiss, we pulled apart and smiled and then before I could say something stupid we went back for more. Now our lips were wet and our mouths were bolder. Kissing and sucking bottom lips, top lips, experimental opening of mouthes. Finding that rhythm, finding out how the other person works.

Kissing is a lot more complex than people realize. Not complicated, but complex because there are so many things going on at the same time. There are a lot of split seconds decisions to be made and a lot of things you can mess up. You have to be in tune with your partner and know how to lead and go with the flow. There is a give and take, like dancing or fighting.

I’ve been with good kissers and bad kissers and aggressive kissers and passive kissers. This girl was a good kisser, which was mind blowing after years of neglect in the kissing department. Her lips were soft and her mouth was sweet. She followed my lead half the time and took control the other half. That’s the way it is supposed to be, a delicate wrestling match. Tides of pushing and pull and teasing and swooning.

Soft new person kissing leading into deeper kisses, little sigh becoming deeper breathing. Her hands on my arm, on my side. Her mouth opening a little here and there. Then mine opening, then little testing slips of my tongue. The sweetness of her tongue in my mouth, the intimacy of it.

Pushing her hair back, my fingers in the silky tangle, her sigh as I stroke her hair. Then  a sudden pull away. She looks at me through hazy eyes, we are both lust drunk. I move in but not to her lips, to her neck. She gasps a little and I smile into her skin.

It’s nice to know her secrets. From the minute my lips touched the flawless skin of her neck forever I knew that it was her weakest point. All my want and all of her charms and I had a key. It sounds almost cold and calculated now to see it that way, but we all have locks and labyrinths to our passion. Finding the way in is part of the whole lovely little game.

As a boy my mind tends to go in certain directions. Sometimes I have to will myself to enjoy the kiss because my hands and body want to take over. I get eager, especially with those breasts calling me, pressing against my chest. My hand just under one and the heat radiating from her body through the soft fabric of her shirt and my eyes and body clenching with the anticipation of softness and as my thumb hits the bottom of her bra my heart starts beating faster.

I moved up a little, testing, the kiss kept up, move, further, wanting her so badly. I kissed her deeper as my hand slipped up and a shiver filled me as I cupped her breasts and felt the fullness of it. Who knew such a simple act could be so hot, just feeling her breasts, but it was ridiculous in its intensity.

Her kisses kept pulling me back though. I had to keep up with her tempo and now her body was shifting on the couch, soon she was laying and I was on top of her. Our parts aligned and our bodies becoming part of the kiss.

We went in little cycles. Focusing on sucking each lip, top and bottom. Little nips and long pulls. Twirling tongues just dancing across each other and then long deep kisses exploring wet and decadent.

her body under me was lithe and hot. She ground against me as I pushed against her. I kissed her neck again and it was still wet where my mouth was. I pushed up both of my hands, feeling her breasts again, wanting more. The tempo was up and up and up.

I don’t remember how far we went that first night. I vaguely remember going to the bed, awkward conversation as I pulled her shirt off. I remember the hotness of seeing her in her bra for the first time. To this day I’m still fixated on her breasts. They are really spectacular. I also remember finding out that girls who kiss well often do other things with their mouth well.

More than anything I remember kissing longer than I had ever kissed before, like I’d found some new trick my body could do and I intended on taking advantage of it. We spent two weeks straight kissing. Every imaginable kind of his, hard to soft, violent to vulnerable. From the first kiss to the kiss goodbye.

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