A First Kiss, A Feeling Inside

He smiles down at me. He is so soft, so gentle in these moments when we are together. He looks in my eyes. He is the first person to ever tell me that they are beautiful, that I am beautiful. He leans down. He whispers to me. He tells me that we will move at my speed, as fast or as slow as I feel is right.

Before I know it, I give a slight sign. I know I am ready for this, for what is coming. The kiss. It is simple, caring, sensation. The feelings course through my body, my heart flutters. I feel his beard tickle my chin.

Then, a pause. I stop to breathe. He pulls off my glasses. They were poking him, poking his nose. I giggle, the silliness coming back, silliness chased away only temporarily by the feelings.

How did I feel though? I had spent so long, so very long pretending that I didn’t care what others thought. I had spent so long ignoring remarks about how I was fat, how I couldn’t sing, how ugly I was. And he in a moment of love, had broken all that down by telling me I was beautiful. By telling me that he cared. My heart was pounding, and I knew that he was going to hold me here, keep me from feeling like I was falling.

He kissed me again, this time with desperation, with need. He nibbled ever so lightly on my lips, asked if I liked it, did it again with my yes. Told me he liked it too. He whimpers with my kisses, a small one, a small crack in his mask. He gave himself to me. His lips crushed mine, and I couldn’t remember where clothes separated bodies. Our hearts were one, our breathing was shared. The gasps of air between kisses, the light that kept us from sinking.
His hands wind in my hair. He holds me to him, his kisses exploring my mouth. Our lips start to stick, but it doesn’t matter now. We can hold our faces together, hold in our breath, hold up our hearts.

He is the only guy I have ever truly fallen for, and I fall harder with each kiss. He gives me hope, and my heart pounds when I am around him. His lips taste different all the time, with the food he’s just eaten, the toothpaste he uses, his chap stick. His lips taste sweet to me, my sugar in a tasteless desert of snow. He doesn’t fully understand how he makes me feel, how could he, I can’t even find it. But the kisses, these kisses help me see more clearly. If I compare sugar to a devil, it is just to put his lips into perspective as an angel.

We kiss. Desperation and hope fill me as my lips explore his. I push my mouth onto his, in the hope that I will reach his center. I hold his head next to mine, refusing to let him stop kissing me. He does the same, and our kiss stretches on. I love kissing, but I especially love kissing him.
Swanfirefly Swanfirefly
18-21, F
1 Response Dec 16, 2012

I especially love the "if I compare sugar to the devil" part ;) - it doesn't sound so exaggerated to me :)

Well, with how I feel about sugar, if I compare it to the devil, my comparison has more to do with what is THAT much better.

I know ^_^ - I still enjoyed it. :)