coquetterie

Thank you to Badman for the link-love. I’ve admired his writing, his brutal honesty and his introspection for some time. If you haven’t already, go check out his site.

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I enjoy older men. No, that’s not true. I adore older men. And, by older, I mean older than me. Whilst some women laud the qualities of the younger man, I just can’t seem to get past the overwhelming drama [they bring] and lack of cultural touchstones.

With an older man, I’ve found, there is more emphasis on mutual pleasure. I don’t have to worry that they will be a ‘wham, bam, thank you Ma’am” sort. They are as genuinely interested in my pleasure as I am in theirs.. And, I adore that.

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I’m in the mood for snogging. Snogging, for those unaware, is synonymous with making-out.

I want to curl up somewhere with you. Somewhere warm and lush. I want the sun to shine on our skin and a cool breeze to waft over us. I want the breeze to send the hem of my skirt dancing as we recline on a blanket. The park is ideal.

I want to feel your arms encircle me. I want to feel you draw me close. Watching, waiting with anticipation to see who succumbs first. Who makes the first move?

Looking deeply into your eyes and you into mine, your head lowers, your mouth moves closer. My pretty lips part slightly in anticipation. My arms tighten around your neck. The first touch is electric. Sparks engulf us. The chemistry is palpable.

At first, I lips move against each other’s. We are already familiar with the terrain. My lips tingle, a mix of the lip-gloss and the chemistry. Our mouths open slightly wider. One hand slides into the tangles of waves that is my hair. It holds my head steady, giving you plenty of opportunities to ravage my mouth. Just not yet.

Your other hand is sliding against the soft, material of my top, that skims over my figure and, in the front, dips low, revealing the décolletage you so enjoy. Our bodies seem fused together. Determined to provoke you, I nip at your lower lip, tugging it gently then releasing it. It solicits a deep growl that starts in your chest and rumbles into me.

My nails bite into your shoulders and your hands tighten, becoming rougher with me and your tongue pushes past my lips. You don’t tease with little licks or nibbles. You push right in. You’ve been tempted enough already.

A few words, growled into my ear in the guise of a whisper. We break apart. Gather our things, our bodies smoldering, leave our enclave behind the tree in the park for your flat, which is the closest.

Now playing Madonna: Future Lovers: Confessions On A Dance Floor [4:51]

Technorati Tags: older men, good manners, snogging, kissing, making-out

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Warm lips, a chorus of ‘Happy New Year,’ champagne and spiked fruit punch, Those sensory flashes remind me of my first kiss. Partying at my then-boyfriend’s house, his parents at a party next door, his father made the punch with a wink and a nod pointing out the chilling bottle of champagne

We spent the evening with four other couples, laughing, having a good time, and rocking out to Dick Clark. The kiss came at midnight, Rum-fruit punch moistened lips pressed against each other, a hint of lipstick a bottom note of flavor. It didn’t last long,Iit was, at that moment, perfect.

Let’s fast forward quite a few years, I shall not say how many. I like how young I feel. I like that I am in my prime. Although, when you are young and learning to kiss, bad kissers are much easier to forgive than when you are older. Why didn’t these people learn, I always rail to myself? Why am I forced to decide whether to school them or move on.

I hate to say it, but I’m not wasting time on someone that is older than me that cannot kiss. I don’t want to kiss someone that I feel necessary to try and push his tongue out of my mouth, instead of encouraging it to slide in. I need, crave, want tongue-on-tongue action. I don’t want someone that feels too shy to slide their tongue into my mouth. Or, worse yet, someone who will thwart my efforts to use my tongue in their mouth.

The most flagrant violation is a man that thinks that kissing his dog is training for kissing a woman. The most horrible kiss, ever experienced, resulted from a man literally licking me from chin to the tip of my nose. If I wanted a kiss like that, I would allow the dogs to kiss me that way. I don’t. Why would I let a man!?!

Meant to be a prelude to something more, kisses ought to tease, ignite flames of passion for more, not passion to murder. I want someone that is confident, pushing their tongue into my mouth as I would theirs. I want to bite someone’s lower lip, tug it out and then release it when I hear them moan.

If I inflame my partner’s passions wildly, I want to feel crushed in their embrace. I want to feel the strength of his arms around me. Swallowing my moans, I want him to ravage my mouth with his. Heat and passion from our kiss, I need it to make me feel weak in the knees. I crave the chemistry of our passion to make me want to unfurl for him, to feel his hands everywhere.

That is why a kiss is not just a kiss…If done properly, it should open and expand your horizons. If done horribly, it just goes on that list…you know the one I’m talking about.

Now Listening…Katy Perry: I Kissed A Girl One Of The Boys [2:59]

Technorati Tags: kissing, men

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