Thursday, October 2, 2014

How to kiss me for the first time

Slowly. Gently. Sweetly. Subtly. With anticipation and a touch of reverence. As if there's nowhere else to be, no goal or destination, just this moment. Just the faint stirrings of desires to come.

Kiss me like Amelie and Nino. Start somewhere else. Not the back of my hand, which tells me you fancy yourself a ladies man. Not my neck, which speaks of the intention to arouse. Not a peck on the cheek, which feels brotherly, chaste, sheepish.

Start at the top of my cheek, the line of my jaw, my temple, the corner of my mouth. Linger, press your cheek against mine, skim your lips over my eyelids. Appreciatively, savouring.

Sensitively, reading my responses, noticing your own. Curb the impulse to rush in. Wait. Linger. As if you've wanted to for a long time, and can't quite believe it is happening.

With hands light on my waist, or in the small of my back, or holding mine. Holding but not trapping me.

Hold my face gently. Perhaps to turn me so that you can reach the other side, a nudge to turn my face up towards you, to cradle me when you finally reach my mouth.

Then gradually, as if you are holding back a dam of desire. As if, bit by bit, yielding to irresistible temptation. Our desires feeding off the desire of the other. Bodies leaning inexorably closer. With pauses and hesitation, easing into each other, seeking in increments.

So that, when it ends, my outward breath says 'yes'.

No comments:

Post a Comment