How did I get to be thirty, and a mother, without knowing how to kiss?
You lie on your back,
sweet and
sensual and
heavy lidded, and I kiss you.
Gentle, nibbling kisses.
I taste
your lips,
the tip of your tongue. Run my tongue over
your teeth, and smile.
Arms wrapping tightly; yours around me, mine around you. Bodies pressing together, cleaving to one another -
How close can we get?
I, in a mood for silliness, run my
tongue across the underside of yours, and hear your
gasp, and
feel it with my whole body.
My mood for silliness is banished at a blow.
I do it again. Harder.
Oh gods, your reaction is sweet, sweet, and
I want more.
I probe.
I dart.
I
suck
You... you sound like
me: gasping and moaning and only
snatching breath when you simply must.
This is ecstatic.
A warm hard piece of sensitive flesh thrusting in and out of a warm, wet, soft, delighted place.
I'm... I'm
fucking your mouth. I don't know how else to say it.
I'm in
control.
Your body is mine to play with, to steer, to bring pleasure to. I revel in it.
Suddenly something changes and I know what you want. My mouth flies from yours and envelopes your wet hardness and sucks firmly and licks fast and in two strokes you're coming into me.
In a moment I sit up, with a delighted smile
lighting me from inside.
You hold out your arms and I cuddle against you.
I
liked that.
I want to do it
again