We are on the precipice. Mouths, lips, increasingly hot breath, mingling, taunting, teasing.
We playfully brush against each other, carrying on our conversation, extending the moment before we plunge into the bliss.
Into the inviting opening I utter simple words, everyday words, enjoying the way each one changes the shape of my mouth, the way each one touches then pulls away from the perfect peaks in front of me.
I speak softly, my thumb now mapping the seductive curve of your smile. I whisper words of now, words of then, words of what will come. You murmur filthy salacious somethings, deeds that will be done. We sigh, whimper and moan as words snake into sound.
When we can bear it no longer, our lips give in and meet. Hands wind through my curls, fingers caress your nape, soft playful kisses with little hints of tongue, as we finally dive into a long deep wetness that goes on and on and on.