He wasn't hesitant to tip my chin up, then run this thumb across my lower lip (lips swell and fill out during the onset of arousal, did you know that?). I felt the curious sensation of my tiny little button stand at attention. It was SO excited to be invited to the party, it couldn’t sit still…
This flutter of activity, a tense mix of warm honey, the sudden need for hard, quick heat; devoid of anything tender, slow, or sweet. His tongue ran over the roof of m y mouth, something I did myself while reading, writing, watching TV. My breath was coming in short staccato breaths, until I gave up all pretense and moaned in his mouth. Pillow lips still wrapped around tongue, I moaned again (the image of my tongue wrapped around something lower on his body elicited that particular sigh).
I pressed my hips against his, hesitant to the urge to wrap my leg around his waist, the urge to reach my hand into my skirt. I was so ready to be deliberately and un-gently fucked. So hard that my teeth would chatter, but I wanted to show a tiny bit of restraint. After a pulse (a thrum, a cadence, a flutter of eyelash) his hands were up my purple skirt pushing on damp cotton, finding a tight little orchid (his hand now soaked).
Lips are fuller now, just remembering the kiss with benefits. Never saw him then saw him abruptly at our shared college, thick with brick. He had a lovely girlfriend, so lovely the gears cranked and turned in my imagination and I loped over to Fantasyland during introductions. Just slightly hurt. More fodder. More memories to ransack later.