Wanton Wednesday: Mouth
Cut for being NSFW. M/F vignette for Wanton Wednesday. Suspect the piece is terribly pretentious rather than insightful or sexy. Ah well.
It’s the shape of his lips that I first notice; the cupid bow curls and the gentle, upward ticks at the ends of his mouth. After that I see how pink and plump they are, how soft they seem in the dim gold light of the private party where we both know nobody but the host, and are hovering like lost moths around a tall lamp.
It would not do to compliment him on his lips, I decide, even after we’ve spoken at ease and with striking honesty (ah the effects of wine do wonders). I may as well say I love his eyelashes, long and dark, rising and falling over his green irises. What man wants to be seen as pretty like a flower?
A shame, because I think he’s pretty. More than pretty. Beautiful.
His lips crease and smooth as his mouth changes from resting to smiling, from closed to open wide. I lose sight of them when I lean up to kiss them, but I gain their sensuous touch to my own, feeling him through my seeking tongue, desiring to explore the cavities and spaces of him through my mouth alone.
Later that night, it’s his wet tongue I adore, as it spreads the folds of my labia, releasing the burgeoning wetness that has been filling me as I thought of his lips. Now I feel him both expose and caress me with his full lips, devouring me, a fruit ripe just for him. And when I feel him inside me, it is his mouth I still cling to with my own, the connection through saliva and our now bruised and tender lips more tenuous yet lasting than the friction between our legs, and we absorb each other into the rising pleasure of oblivion.