Day 11 of #100Daychallenge
He felt sure of himself. He kissed confidently. He used his lips. He used his tongue. He was present. He kissed like kissing was the world itself. When I kissed him, the world disappeared. There was only him, the taste of him, the sound of his breath, the warmth of his skin, the feel of his beard on mine. There are kisses that only stop for air. This was one of them. Hands on either side of each other’s heads, pausing just to press forehead to sweaty forehead, nose against nose, breathing a moment, holding back to feel the hunger build. Some kisses happen outside of time.
Kissing is the best thing ever. Ever. Kissing is better than chocolate. Kissing is better than sex. Of all the pleasures, kissing really is the one that requires another breathing human being. Kissing can’t be done alone.
Some men are amazing kissers. Some are not. I recently kissed one of the amazing kissers. It was a just a casual shift* in a pub. His red beard and broad shoulders caught my eye but all I remember is the kissing. I’m gay; I can only speak for the kissability of men. I have kissed women, but my heart was never in it. I have kissed bad kissers. It’s awful. Bad kissers kiss with teeth or are all tongue or flat lips. Bad kissers have no rhythm. Bad kissers are boring. My mouth meets a bad kisser and my brain thinks “Oh no…..…”. Some men take a while to warm up. Their first kisses are awkward. They get better. Some kisses are like dancing; it takes a while to find the dance of us, where your rhythm meets mine. When you kiss, be good at it or get better.
Kissing is important.
*Hiberno-English for snog/kiss