Started innocent

We talk at night, sleepy musings. We face each other often, and your breath will brush my face. I stare at your supple lips; the bottom one always begs to be sucked.

Mesmerizing, your lips. Dangerous. It is meant to be innocent, my leaning in to briefly touch lips to yours. The slightest touch pulls, shivers down, tightens lower.

Your lopsided, sexy smile, almost knowing the effect. My tongue touches that smile, your arms gather me, encircling closer. My own arms circle your neck, trying to close a space that no longer exists as my tongue plunges deeper.

You give as much as me, a parry of tongue, appreciative noises, seeking lips, breath. Thoughts no longer exist, just the warmth of our bodies, the ache of growing needs.

My hands are everywhere, trying to close every space, feel every muscle. My legs even wrap around you to bring you where I need you most.

With the fierce contact of our mouths, I echo what I want between my legs, where I'm instinctively pulling you.

It started out innocently enough.