First Contact 13

You drain your glass and place it on the table behind you, then slowly walk towards me and I back up until I'm pressed against the wall. You reach for my glass and place it on the counter.

Now there is nothing more between us. No drinks. No furniture. No children. No parking lots.

You move your right hand to my hip, the warmth of your fingers brushing the skin at the edge of my t-shirt. Your left hand comes to my chin, tilting it up and to the left so the soft of my neck is exposed, presented to you. You take in my scent, tracing your nose gently from my ear to my clavicle and back up. You breathe and the sound lets me know how much you want me.

You want all of me.

My lips part and a sound escapes, betraying my own demeanor.

I want you too.

You close the gap between our bodies and bring my face to yours. Your lips hover over mine.

We breathe. The heat simmers.

Who will open first?

We're both stubborn enough to hold. But the saturation point is close. Enough time has mounted. Enough stolen glances passed. Enough cordial conversations and friendly exchanges have transpired. Enough sleepless nights of wondering, dreaming, imagining, picturing, have lead to this moment of contact. Full contact. Blissful, all-consuming contact.

You lean into my lips, gently pushing them open and my mouth gives way to yours. For one fleeting moment of shyness, you hesitate to use your tongue, so mine goes into your mouth, and the warm wetness of it jolts your desire. Your hips grind into mine and the air goes out of my chest as you press in with all of your body and the pressure takes me over. I grind my hips back, willing our clothing to disintegrate. Everything is heat and desire, blood flooding to lips and hips and fingertips. Suddenly you break the inertia and pull away. For one thick moment you breathe a slow, calculated breath, commanding every cell of your body to heel.

You will not let this go quickly. You will keep control. You will savor every moment.

Then you come back to me.

We kiss in a long, slow, deep rhythm, taking time to feel and taste every inch of each other. My hand anchors to the back of your neck, the other holds your shirt collar, either to steady myself or to pull you in closer. Sometimes you leave my mouth to nuzzle my ear or graze your teeth along my neck again and I shiver at the fervid sensation it sends through me. I'm loosing the ability to stand upright but your arm around the small of my back holds me so instead I release another soft breath of sound pitched high and arched with hunger.

Your hand moves from my back, around the side of my hip, then to the front of my thigh, catching my skirt as it travels slowly upward to the soft, warm point between my legs. Still we kiss. Still we breathe. Oxygen is in shorter supply. Your fingers are slow and gentle but decisive as they slide inside of me. I'm wet with anticipation. I want this. I want you. Your fingers are warm and filing. My hips arch with pleasure and my mouth begs for you to come in deeper. Your hand works deliberately, smoothly, in and out, the heel of your hand weighted on my pubic bone. On the out, your fingers wet, come up to tease the folds of skin around my clitoris. On the in, they go deeper.

The blood rushes.

Still we kiss.

My left leg bends and opens, curling up around your calf. You feel me rising and it floods you from head to toe. In one predacious movement you tug my shirt up and over my head and toss it to the floor and your mouth comes to my breast, the only condition for abandoning my mouth. My breasts are small but perked and you suck, and lick, and bite, and suck, while your right hand continues it's slow in out. I find your left hand in my hair and take it to my lips, bringing your thumb into my mouth, rolling it around my tongue. Licking. Sucking.

Every molecule buzzes with pleasure.

The heat sears from red to blue to white.

Your mouth persists at my breast and your hand carries on with it's steady pulse. I am ascending. I breathe in pants that give way to pleading whimpers until I need your mouth back on mine and pull your face to my own. I need the weight of your chest pinned tight to me as I dig my nails into your skin and my mouth opens into a blissful O as I come deeply, disintegrating into your arms. Everything but us is gone for this one, soft moment of rapture. A visceral satisfaction courses through you as you wrap yourself around me, stealing one last, slow kiss.