A SubJective Perspective of Kissing

I remember the year I grew strawberry plants for the first time. I was so excited, every day after work I would race home and burst into the garden, eager to check the progress of my little fruits. One berry in particular was the first to ripen, and I watched as over the weeks it grew bigger and the red flush developed, the skin so taut yet so soft, and on the day I put it into my mouth it was so luscious, so ripe and perfect as I ran my tongue over it I couldn't imagine anything I wanted to bite into more.

I was wrong. The feel of her lips as I run my tongue over them is a thousand times more desirable. It's as if she's swallowed the sun and she's burning me from the inside out. I can feel her mouth with every part of my body. I want her to consume me, destroy me, and just as I think I can't control myself she will slide her hand around my throat and oh so gently, put the lightest of pressure on my windpipe, just so I know who is driving the kiss. She could collapse her hand and stop me breathing in a moment and I'm not strong enough to fight back. And instead of hurting me, the little fear just thrills me - and I think, anything, you can do anything to me, I want you to.

If I've been very good, I might get the special treat of feeling her soft, sweet touch move down my throat, and her teeth in my flesh. I can feel my breathing change as she bites down - hard - on my neck, and the pain that isn't pain floods through me as for once, my mind and body are connected and there is no more conflict. No more thought. Just sensation.