My sweetest moments are in the middle of a kiss. Like that moment when both people pull back just a few millimeters and share breath, lips just barely touching. I love extended make-out sessions, where it starts out playful and exploratory, but ends end hard, intense, and breathless. I think kissing can be better than sex. Lucky for me, kissing often leads to sex – so I don’t have to choose – but even a kiss by itself is amazing.
Kissing is it’s own language. You can communicate so much with a kiss. It can be subtle or blatant, intimate or impersonal, meaningless or significant. From the kiss of death, to the kiss-off, to take me I’m yours, a kiss is a powerful thing. Kissing can be quite spiritual. A kiss goodbye, a kiss for luck, kissing the bride – sometimes a kiss conveys your meaning better than words. Most people use a kiss to say, I love you.
When my partners kiss me I know that I am wanted, even desired. I cherish those moments when we steal a few minutes in a quiet place and press our lips together. I feel a little dizzy, my mind goes blank, my body feels lighter – then a warmth travels down my center, from my mouth to my cunt. The kiss intensifies and I feel wild. I want to devour my lover. Kisses tend to travel to other parts of the body then back to the lips again. We slow down, but the energy stays fervent. My kisses are laden with the need that fills me.
This is the point at which we regretfully part our bodies and gaze into each other’s eyes. We are panting and lustful. The ardor stretches out between us. One move from either of us will have us searching for a convenient broom closet or a DVD that the kids haven’t watched yet. It’s a fine edge and I’m eager to skate it. Ordinarily, we calm ourselves, banking that fire so we can throw tinder on it at a better time. At times, foreplay lasts for days. But from time to time, that kiss says more than we can withstand and we end up on the kitchen floor with our pants around our ankles.
Darling, it’s very sweet when you kiss me.