I kiss her and feel wetness everywhere she touches me.
She grips me firmly, fingers wrapped in my hair, pressing my face into her as if to keep me from looking down and seeing what she is doing to me.
As if I didn’t watch her do it to someone else before.
As if I didn’t choose this.
Her kisses are something special. Her lips are soft and yielding, her tongue both gentle and demanding, dancing with mine in the most delightful way.
It is easy to miss the way I can’t feel my legs any more.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think that’s sweat I am feeling, but I’ve seen this. I know it is her body soaking through my clothes.
I happily surrender myself to her, losing myself in that kiss while her body splashes over mine.
Enveloping, devouring, claiming.
I can’t pull away even if I wanted to. Already there isn’t enough of me left to survive without her.
I cling to awareness, curiosity compelling me to follow the line where I lose sensation as it washes over me, claiming my legs, rising up my body slowly to my neck…
I lose even her tugging of my hair, and I press my lips one last time to her in a grateful farewell.
The kiss ends when there is nothing left to kiss. When my mind lingers as a separate thing for that brief moment before it too is consumed and integrated.
We cannot help but laugh in delight when we finish and understand how that one knew what was happening to her at the very beginning, how she sought us out intentionally.
Our body sloshes with its doubled mass for a moment while we finish integrating her.
We split, separating the extra mass of what was once that lonely, eager girl into a second, identical copy of us.
Hand in hand, we return home.