Kissless
One hundred and eight words.
We've never met, but I've kissed you a thousand and one times. I've been counting.
Your eyelashes would be less like feathers and more like daggers, up close. Your shampoo and soap mingling with sweat, right up my nose. Your hips under my hands and no lower, a tease of skin in the space between your shirt and your jeans. Your breath, wispy and whistling in my ears, still much too in control for moans. And your lips, and your tongue, and your teeth and your words and your taste, I can't contain inside my own.
We've never met, but I've kissed you a thousand and two times.
Your eyelashes would be less like feathers and more like daggers, up close. Your shampoo and soap mingling with sweat, right up my nose. Your hips under my hands and no lower, a tease of skin in the space between your shirt and your jeans. Your breath, wispy and whistling in my ears, still much too in control for moans. And your lips, and your tongue, and your teeth and your words and your taste, I can't contain inside my own.
We've never met, but I've kissed you a thousand and two times.