The First Kiss

My lips were numb and I could barely breathe. Whenever we kissed, I felt intoxicated. I wanted more. I needed more.

His kiss sucked the air directly from my lungs. When our lips parted ways, he bit down until tears welled in my eyes. His kiss felt like love so I bit him back. I was ready for love.

Then he’d trail his lips from my full bottom lip to my chin and from my chin to my neck. My pussy ached in a literal sense. My inner walls contracted and salivated.

His fingers danced to the meeting of my thighs and skipped around my clit. He kissed me again. Tiny bubbles filled my airway. My breaths would become shallow. My mind would race until I was dizzy.

This unmistakable lust had eluded me until this moment. A stolen moment.

A single stolen moment would become two and then three until each stolen moment was declared the last of its kind.

image credit: stefan kuhn

X Marks the Spot

He watches her methodically undress in the dimly lit hotel room while he stands at the head of the bed. His shoulders are rigid and his back is erect. His rangy limbs are squarely planted on ten and two of his body.

She reaches behind her own back and unzips her long floral dress. The dress slips from her shoulders and allows it to glide to the floor. The silk pools around her feet before she sneaks a glance over her shoulder to see if his attention has been obtained. His eyes are fixed in her direction but his face is unmoved.

She returns to undressing by side-stepping from the middle of the floral fabric around her ankles, her stiletto heel briefly getting snagged in the mess. Her full, natural breasts hang like pumelos on her chest.

When she turns to look at her prospective lover again, his back has relaxed and his nimble fingers have gone to work on unzipping his pants and unbuttoning his shirt.

She turns away again to smile before sensually bending over to collect her dress from the floor. Her round behind separates ever so slightly, allowing him to see a flirtatious wink from her inner thighs.

Her heels subtly click across the floor adding to the soundtrack of scarce traffic flashing past their hotel window. A train horn sounds off in the distance. With her dress now neatly draped across the back of the rickety office chair, she’s ready to follow his remaining instructions.

Her heels click-clack to the hotel dormitory’s entrance. She uses the extra locks to secure the doorway. She looks over to him again. His button-down shirt and slacks are halved over his folded arms. The pair is separated by the bed and his tight, white boxer briefs.

She reassures him by crawling across the bed to him and taking his clothes from his arms.

“Come,” she says seductively.

She leaves his clothes on the bedside table and leans back on the bed. Her long, lean legs spread on each side. He leans over her, his lips stiffly pressing against hers. She uses her tongue to part his lips, his jaw goes slack then their lips engage in a game of cat and mouse.

Using her stilettos as leverage, she digs them into the bed, squeezes her thighs around his waist, then inches him and herself further onto the bed. She digs her teeth into his bottom lip before sucking on it to soothe the sting.

He winces a bit before striking his hand against her throat to give a gentle but stern reminder of their arrangement. Her vagina tightens with anticipation for what’s to come.

He bites her bottom lip in return, then her chin and along her jawline. Her heart skips a beat when he moves down the side of her neck, a small distance beneath her ear. His bites burn with pleasure. Her soft moans feed his flame. Her hands travel the length of his back, her ankles are now crossed delicately around his waist.

She can feel his bulge against her. Her moans plead for him to silence the aching in her most private part, her deepest secret. She uses her fingers to tickle the band of his briefs, his hands catch her wrists then pin them over her head.

Her hips gyrate on his bulge to continue beckoning his phallus, but he continues to take his time.

Coming soon…

photo credit: stefan kuhn

Drunk Texting

I sat at the bar alone. It’s late and last call is steadily approaching.  Just over my heart beat I could hear the hard gulps of my whiskey highballs banging in my ears. My lips were numb. See, I started with whiskey sours but the pangs of embarrassment weren’t numb enough so I dropped that sour part and started drinking highballs. Johnnie Walker Blue Label. Only the best whiskey for the best love I have ever lost.

I sent you another text about an hour ago – something that I’d promised us both I would never do again. But fuck it.

“Another shot,” I slurred, I think. My eyes were watery and my skin was clammy.

So u realky not gunag hit m e bakc?Another text.

My phone rang and eagerly I answered because I thought it was you but it wasn’t. It was my homegirl. She wants to know why I left the reception. What can I tell her? Should I be honest and tell her I left our best friend’s wedding reception because I’m in my feelings over you?

“I have to be at work early,” at least I think that’s what I said. Then I hung up on her to call you.

The phone rang twice then went to voice mail. Call me. That’s the shortened version. I might have veered off into a soft spot about needing you, loving you, missing you – et cetera, cetera, and whatever.

“Last call, my friend. Who can I call for you?” That’s the first thing the bartender has said to me since What are you having tonight? But it’s cool.

I couldn’t face my friends after this but I had to eventually so I pulled our old friend’s business card out and slid it to the barkeep along with my credit card. It would have been less expensive to buy the Brooklyn Bridge. But again, only the best whiskey for the best love I have ever had and ever lost.

With a heavy heart and light pockets, I headed to the bench outside to wait for him to pick up the pieces of my life. I leaned my head back to keep the blood from rushing to my face. I closed my eyes and I could feel your skin on my finger tips.

We kissed and our fingers link as I pull you in tighter. My fingers slowly caress your neck as I nibble on your chin before I bite your bottom lip. For the life of me I don’t know how you found out where I was but I’m grateful.

We sat in silence while you drove us home. I stole glances at the beautiful contours of your face in the night lights. My fingers lightly stroked the back of your hand while we sat at a red light. We stared at one another until we were interrupted by a horn.

We pulled up to your apartment door and I could feel the goosebumps raise on my neck and arms. I love you. I miss you. Thank you. Between the slow kisses were apologies and affirmations.

Off goes the tie and cufflinks. Slow and steady we undress each other. The skirt falls the floor with a low thud adding to the sound track of our oohs and aahs. And so follows the bra and the collared shirt, the undershirt and the socks; all taking their respective places in a trail of moonlight.

Panties, stockings, and boxer briefs remain, covering our least intimate parts. I kissed from your collar bone to your shoulder blade as your hands wrap around my waist. You back me into the bed as we foreplay like old lovers. We’re in no rush to end this moment of truth.

You placed soft kisses on the tip of my nose and deep kisses onto my lips. Your lips are so full and soft. I licked and nibbled on them while I traced your arms over your head. We rolled. You kissed my chin and left passion bruises on my neck.

Your tongue swirled down my stomach and to my pelvis. My hands played in your hair and guided your head further down. There are sloppy kisses are followed by loud slurps. Moaning and humming with minimal use of your hands – you know that drives me crazy but I can’t let you have all the fun. In my drunken stupor, I was still alert.

I pulled you up to kiss you. I can taste me on your tongue but I wanted to taste you more. So I tasted, enjoyed, and lingered between your thighs. I love you. I miss you. My tongue said the things my slurred words were unable to.

Slow strokes followed from every position. I was on top of you controlling our rhythm. I had your hands pinned over your head, once again. There’s nothing that turned me on more than every angle, freckle, and tattoo on your body. I could spend hours counting and memorizing them.

….to be continued…

Get Out

He’d lied to and humiliated her for the last time. With each stab her mind chanted “I didn’t want to go to jail. I can’t go to jail.” But it didn’t stop her from repeating the up and down motion. Her arms were growing tired; there was blood everywhere.

He should have just walked away months ago. She could have walked away as well but there was no one else. There could have been had she given them the chance but she was convinced he was her only choice so she let him stay. There was no more strength in her arms when she finally stopped stabbing. She sat tired and slumped in the corner staring over at his body.

“I hate liars,” she huffed. Then she crawled over to his body and shoved her hand in the hole where his heart had been. No more tears, no more lies, no more him. Of all his misdeeds, who knew his lying would be the reason someone finally killed him?

This is unfortunate. Who will raise their children? She didn’t care much for his kids. In her heart, they were doomed to be scum of society anyway. With a father like him as their only reference, how could they not be? She made a few phone calls to family and friends to have her daughters picked up. Her final phone call was to the police. She ran her bloody hands through her hair and waited next to his body for the police to arrive.

Still covered in his blood, she sat in the back of the squad car. She watched his 300 pound body get carted into the ambulance. She felt sorrow. But not for his loss but the loss of her children.

“Why?” asked the arresting officer.

“He talked too much,” she coldly replied as she closed her eyes to nap in the back seat.

The sounds of little girls screaming woke her from her slumber. She rubbed her eyes and was staring at the very man she’d slaughtered moments before. He picked up their two youngest and knelt to kiss his oldest while she stared at him in shock.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked.

For a second she still didn’t speak. “Get your kids, pack your bags, and leave.”

“What the fuck?”

“You all have to go. Mine can stay but you and yours have to leave.”

…and so it began.

Purple Kisses for my Quixotic Muse

A Wickd PurpLkiss

We sat together in silence as the clouds shadowed the moon. I’d never seen her before and yet she seemed quite familiar. The wind brushed the hair from her face then she turns to me and asked quietly, “Do you think kisses have a color?”

I chuckled in response then I paused and replied, “I don’t know.” We sat in more silence admiring the skyline. I slid a little closer to the familiar stranger and brushed her hair behind her ear. “Let me show you something.”

I kissed her forehead, left an Eskimo kiss on her nose, and then her chin. My lips grazed hers but I passed them for her delicate collar bone. I back tracked to her ear to nibble her ear lobe and whispered “Beautiful.” I eased her sweater from her shoulder and kissed that too. I paused as I intertwined my fingers in hers and looked into her eyes. While she was enthralled I gently pulled her from the bench and held her close. Several intense minutes passed before she finally leaned in for a kiss. Our lips pressed and our tongues intertwined. I bit and sucked on her bottom lip for what seemed an eternity in bliss. Her lips were so sweet that I didn’t want to pull away but eventually I did. 

When I pulled away I asked her, “Did my kiss have a color?”

“The kiss on my forehead sent chills to my fingertips and toes. The kisses for my chin and shoulders gave me the warmth of the sun. Took me to a place I’ve never been,” her hands stroked my cheeks as she whispered through the wind. “A kiss without a kiss,” she paused, “I’ve never experienced that before. I can’t quite describe what I felt.” She returned the favor and grazed her lips across mine. She was right about the feeling being somewhat indescribable. It was like the warm sun on a cool day against my skin. The sensation heated me to my core and left me with a yearning for something more. 

I kissed her again while our bodies swayed to the music only the two of us could hear. “So what color is it?” I repeated. 

“I find you intoxicating. Your kiss was magical and passionate. I could feel a sense of peace wash over me with every touch and sensation,” she replied. 

I laughed quietly, “What color would that be?”

“It’s purple.”