Perhaps the fact that I was nearly seventeen before it happened was what made my first kisses so very sweet, sweet enough that if I could have I would have stayed on the couch in my parents’ living room for hours or days not breaking contact except for a brief, occasional full breaths before moving in to explore another one of the ten-thousand different ways lips could touch.
The kind of kissing that lasts for dreamy-long hours despite the sometimes violent need for resolution was the norm for me over the next several years and I came to believe that everyone in every single circumstance kissed like that. But then I ran across one partner after the next for whom kissing was not a priority, and then I got married and sex in general was not a priority. Even after divorce, and despite the incredible chemistry I’ve enjoyed with past partners — chemistry that stretched over months and months and years and years — not once in recent history have I wanted nothing more than to kiss and kiss and kiss and never stop kissing.
Honestly, I was fine with that. I was fine with foregoing kissing if it meant more time for cocksucking, more time for assfucking, more time for naked stroking and fingerbanging and rubbing and talking. I thought it was because of age, that at some point living beneath the more habitual sway of sex supplanted the enjoyment found in just lips.
In fact I hardly thought of kissing at all until not long ago when finally after weeks of talk a coffeedate ended with one kiss, and then just one more, and for days I could think of nothing but those two kisses and how very very badly I wanted ten-thousand more of them. And were they just flukes? And would the rest be just as good?
They were not flukes. The rest was just as good. And now, despite rubbed-raw lips and a throat sore from screaming I want more and more and more.
There is an intimacy and simplicity to kissing that even the connection of hands and cocks and cunts and toys and words and whatnot does not and can not replace.
I’ve been fortunate to have had partners — unfortunately, too few and too far between — who kiss as you describe and who left me weak in the knees…and elsewhere. I can only hope I was able to return the favor in some equal measure.
:)
Forgive me ..this is a wee off topic but.. “more time for ass fucking”…. you are my hero.. have you ever thought of assembling your goodness into a book.. it would be amazing and inspire the ass fucking and cock sucking of a nation!! ..er at least bit more of mine…
Lovely. One of the little known silver linings of the divorce cloud is the chance to rediscover hours and hours of kissing. As a 48 year old woman, I found myself kissing a man I was just beginning to date for two hours in a movie theatre parking lot, fully clothed the entire time. While it wasn’t quite a fair trade for breaking up my nuclear family, it certainly added a silver lining to the cloud.
CLAP, CLAP, CLAP!!!
Kissing is wonderful. There are times when I miss the days when a kiss was the thing itself, not a pit stop on the way to something else. Although that something else is, well, something else. :)
I love kissing and consider a passionate kisser one of the most precious of finds.
Being a good kisser is a prerequisite before any ass fucking may ensue.
my ex-husband always thought i was weird for thinking that kissing could be far more intimate than intercourse. i maintain that he is wrong. *grin*
My most recent lover is probably the best kisser I have ever had. He had all the right moves and none of the bad ones. Its all so individual and based on chemistry and personal taste, but wow. He had such a way about him. I could kiss him for hours on end if he was available to me and when we had sex we would kiss most of the time. A little shudder and a sigh as I think about this.
I had a partner a while back who alerted me to the idea that kissing was the most intimate form of sexual contact, and I found that she was right. Mind you, I’d been in a long marriage where any form of physical contact was problematic, so now having free licence to kiss for the first time with genuine passion was utterly exhilarating. Luckily, I’m now married to a wonderful woman who’s a big fan of romantic kissing, and I can genuinely say that it’s changed my life.
I usually have a shortish beard that I first grew in my 20s, but lately we’ve found that when we go on holiday it’s fun to shave it off for a while and get REALLY close when kissing – well, in the UK we’d call it ‘snogging’ :o)