real life
i could kiss him for hours upon hours upon hours. kissing him. inhaling his scent. tasting him. kissing. him.
As she waited in the lobby of the doctor’s collective her mind wandered…first a stop to the first time they met and the recollection brought a gasp from her that made heat radiate throughout her body. Thoughts and memories tumbled about her mind in a rush and finally came to a stop at a moment that still plays about her memory, as if it was just a few days ago.
He had made a trip to her city. Just to see her…
* * * *
She vaguely remembers his voice, hushing her and the feel of a gentle kiss as she drifts off for a nap before they have to leave the temporary haven of five three five. One thing she craves is the sleep that she is able to completely surrender to after being with him. She awakens not to the jingle of his mobile device but the gentle nibbles down her shoulders as his nips at her flesh, moisture pooling once again as gooseflesh erupts when his beard follows and she moans. She can’t help but moan in sleepy pleasure.
Her mewling seems to fuel his ministrations which increased in pressure. His hands are large and soft and his movements are sure and firm. He whispers something in her ear but it goes unheard as his digits playing in her sex, teasing her turgid clit has her writhing in wet pleasure, bucking her ass upwards so she can grind on his fingers. “What? What did you say?” she manages to get out before her thighs begin to quiver in the tell-tale start of yet another orgasm. “I love that you are so wet for me..” his husky voice reduced to a low growl of pure unadulterated lust, lust she returns for him tenfold.
He flips her over as if she’s a ragdoll and not a plus sized woman, spreading her thighs again, looking at her as if he hasn’t had a meal in weeks. That look, the moment when his cerulean blue eyes go dark, always sends a rush of her juices down her sex and he knows it. Chuckling to himself before he captures her clit between his teeth, she only has a moment to take a breath before she finds herself arching her back and clutching the sheets for dear life as the tsunami begins. The one that leaves her legs incapable of moving let alone supporting her. And then he applies pressure, as if nipping and sucking and tonguing her over sensitive yet still hard clit isn’t enough, his fingers find their way inside her clenching pussy, the muscles clamping down as if to milk what she can from him. All the while his tongue remains constant and steady, in its pursuit of her orgasms.
She cums with a force that puts a smile on his face as she pulls him up to kiss him and taste herself on his tongue…before leaning her head over the edge of the bed, pulling his rigid cock into her mouth, hell bent on making him go weak in the knees as he stands over her.
waiting in my inbox one day…did i mention that he has a wicked sense of humor? no, wait, strike that. he has an eclectic sense of humor. at times silly, bawdy and then downright wicked.
Indeed. There is something about that moment, when you experience that kiss that sends you tumbling headlong into an abyss. Exhilarating, terrifying, and reverberating.
It’s the kiss that many don’t believe exists. While attending a fundraising event that another friend is the chair of, the frenemies and I were reminiscing about first kisses. At various stages of one’s life. Whether it’s that first innocent kiss when in grade school and a crush steals a kiss (or you do) on the cheek. Or middle school and the first game of spin the bottle, or even that first awkward kiss when someone leans in for a kiss you weren’t expecting. And then of course the memories of those first kisses when in high school and in the throes of first love or the teenage hormone fueled years to those first months in college. At some point, the memories became more current if you will, in the more recent past than distant.
One of the women, sobbed that she has never had a first kiss, or any kiss that felt like *that*. Everyone immediately tried to make her feel better by saying things like: “oh i’m sure you have, you might not remember it”, or “surely that’s what you experience with sam?”, “it doesn’t mean you don’t love sam.” to which she sobbed again and said “no, it’s not that. it’s that I don’t know what that feels like. maybe it doesn’t exist.” After closer introspection, and that extra glass of wine, some of the frenemies spoke candidly about kissing. Many of them don’t like it, not at all . It isn’t their spouses or significant other but something that they just don’t enjoy. A couple of women said that they like kissing but their partners don’t. None of what we were saying made Heidi feel any better.
Later, after the topic had changed and we were all involved in various, separate conversations, I found myself alone with Heidi, she wasn’t crying any longer but she was subdued and an air of melancholia was all about her. Emme went to use the restroom and Heidi looked over at me and asked me point blank if I’ve ever experienced that kind of first kiss, the kind that brings to home how lonely you were until that point. I don’t know Heidi well, she’s part of the frenemies from well before I met them, but in that moment I understood exactly what she was asking. What she was searching for. I took a deep breath, looked her straight in the eye and said “Not in my entire life. Until a few years ago.”
She put her head in her hands but I could still hear her utter “I thought I was the only one.”…
And so another blogger is moving along. It’s not just about him but also about a promise he made to someone important to him. Someone who has left a handprint on his heart and has shown him what could be. That he has written his farewell so beautifully only makes me hopeful that I haven’t heard the last of voice albeit a newer voice sometime in the future. Farewell for now Jason…
is me is really me 