I haven’t participated in this year’s A-Z Blogging Challenge, mostly because I hate starting things and not being able to follow through, but also (more accurately) I had forgotten clean about it until I saw Molly’s post for the letter “H”: Hurt. I will not lie, that post excited me, not only for the subject matter, but because I know the writer personally and words and images like those always strike more viscerally when I have prior, intimate knowledge of them. It may also be that I read them at a moment of vulnerability, of need: being hurt (consensually, of course) has not been a part of my life recently and I crave it.
Still, I did not sit down to write, being unsure of my ability to follow-through on the project. Or rather, being sure I would not be able to follow through. But here it is 3am, and here I am, wide awake, having awoken from a dream of kissing. Well, not only that, but a lot that. My dream man was a New Orleans man, a bayou man, with full lips and green eyes and stringy blonde hair, ropy shoulders and hips that I couldn’t keep my hands off. He had a drawl and a sweet, secretive smile – and did I mention full lips? We were parting in my dream, just overnight, but we kissed and kissed to say goodbye, and oh how I miss kissing.
We used to kiss, my kink partner and I, he of the real-life full lips. I frequently told him how unbearably sexy I found them. Times were, he’d hold my face by my jaw, cover my mouth with his own, pinch closed my nose and breathe his breath into me. That was sexy, yes, the power imbalance exciting, a little thrill of fear lancing though the headiness of kissing. But it is the making out kisses I am missing most now. Long hours of lips on lips and tongues and teeth and breath, of nips behind the ears and nibbles long the jawline, and then back to those amazing, full, delicious lips.
There was a girl a long time ago – I found a picture of her and I and my ex pawing through a box of old pictures – she was my ex’s and my 1st threesome, this incredibly vibrant Italian woman with long dark hair, full, heavy breasts and hips, and luscious, luscious lips. Lips that I couldn’t get enough of. Even longer than kissing fests with my kink partner has been the time since I have kissed a girl, fully, deeply. There was a scene with plastic over my face and my friend cum playpartner C made out with me through the plastic, while she simultaneously pummeled me with her fists, but that was more a scene of delighted, deliberate, frustration, rather than indulgence.
I want to be kissed again. Breathed into, brought alive by his (or her) mouth even as I breathe life into them. I can still feel that dream excitement, that bolt of heat charging between us in my dream, igniting the air between us, drawing us closer so that our bodies pressed together even as our lips did: heat and longing and desire and possession.
And no, I haven’t officially entered – in fact this post is one day off – I am going to backdate it for yesterday – but I can’t promise any more A-Z Challenge posts – though I won’t say there won’t be more either. But I wanted to give credit where it’d due – it got me writing!