Before kissing, she grabs my hand, takes my thumb to her lips and wipes hard. Wipes over and over again until whole her lipstick is wiped clean and my thumb is total red.
Such soft lips of hers. Raw. Delicate.
But the way she forces my thumb on 'em, oh, I feel terrified a bit, of hurting her. But perhaps that's her true goal. She wants her lips sore even before the kiss begins.
I mean: she knows her art. Who am I to complain?
And then she looks me in the eye. And damn! That look. The intensity in that look. It enters me, you see. Whatever intense waves her eyes are sending, they enter me and go deeper and deeper into my stomach, making me feel all weak there. She can do that merely with that look of hers.
And then she locks her arms around my neck, lifts herself on her toes and whispers, "Close your eyes and feel it." And I close my eyes. Her fragrance comes close and her lips start taking slow steps on my neck. Slow steps. But deep steps. She parts 'em lips and lets her sharp teeth sink in too.
Oh the sounds that leave my throat. Such sweet pain and such painful pleasure in her sharp bites!
Her lips find my chin. And then the corner of my lips. She keeps her lips glued there, making me crave for the real kiss.
But she goes to the other corner and stays there. Waiting.
Making me crave more and more.
And finally, when she senses my chest thumping against hers, she brings her raw, sore lips straight on mine. And she goes straight for a wild kiss. Oh such intensity in the movement of her lips. I don't even realise how nicely she takes turns on my upper and lower lip, switching on 'em fast. She swallows fast, her breath short and quick, and keeps switching. Her tongue is such an expert too. Like: it gives a lot, but not a whole lot. Her lips keep me hungry, and her tongue keeps me thirsty. Oh only she knows that art! The kiss can't end soon then. Nope. It goes on and on and on.
Such soft lips of hers. Raw. Delicate.
But the way she forces my thumb on 'em, oh, I feel terrified a bit, of hurting her. But perhaps that's her true goal. She wants her lips sore even before the kiss begins.
I mean: she knows her art. Who am I to complain?
And then she looks me in the eye. And damn! That look. The intensity in that look. It enters me, you see. Whatever intense waves her eyes are sending, they enter me and go deeper and deeper into my stomach, making me feel all weak there. She can do that merely with that look of hers.
And then she locks her arms around my neck, lifts herself on her toes and whispers, "Close your eyes and feel it." And I close my eyes. Her fragrance comes close and her lips start taking slow steps on my neck. Slow steps. But deep steps. She parts 'em lips and lets her sharp teeth sink in too.
Oh the sounds that leave my throat. Such sweet pain and such painful pleasure in her sharp bites!
Her lips find my chin. And then the corner of my lips. She keeps her lips glued there, making me crave for the real kiss.
But she goes to the other corner and stays there. Waiting.
Making me crave more and more.
And finally, when she senses my chest thumping against hers, she brings her raw, sore lips straight on mine. And she goes straight for a wild kiss. Oh such intensity in the movement of her lips. I don't even realise how nicely she takes turns on my upper and lower lip, switching on 'em fast. She swallows fast, her breath short and quick, and keeps switching. Her tongue is such an expert too. Like: it gives a lot, but not a whole lot. Her lips keep me hungry, and her tongue keeps me thirsty. Oh only she knows that art! The kiss can't end soon then. Nope. It goes on and on and on.