Intimates

I like kissing.  We all have some part of human connection that is particularly appealing.  Some people like hugs or holding hands, pretty much everyone jumps right to liking sex.  I like that too, but for me it all builds from the kiss.  It’s the foundation from which all other warm lovely touches become real.

There’s a line in Pretty Woman where Julia Roberts’s character says she’ll do anything but, “no kissing on the lips”.  She plays a hooker, so that’s always made sense to me.  It is possible to have sex and be removed, which is weird I know considering all the parts and the naked business, but it’s true.  Bodies are nothing compared to the face and the eyes and the lips, the kiss.

I like the way lovers’ faces fit, tilt past the nose and come together at the mouth.  The breath, sweet or musky, right before the kiss.  The hands are fun too, through the hair or the back of the neck.  I’m a fan of the hands on the face.  Kissing is my favorite, it’s butterflies and warmth and so personal.

I’m an intimate kind of girl.  I like being right up in someone’s eyes and the flutter of eyelids when the kiss deepens.  People can fake a lot of things, but they can’t fake a kiss.  It’s either there and real, or it’s not.  When it’s a great kiss, there’s nothing like it.

Kissing is where it’s at.  Breathless or silly, twisty tongues or soft and melty, I like them all.

Of course there are nasty, thin lipped or spitty kisses, but let’s not go there.

My thoughts from the laundry room.  Goodnight Kiss.

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