Mark reflects on a long ago kiss when seduction, innocence and regret collided in an unexpected way, marking his passage towards manhood. A story with an ending you will want to read introduces the first in a series on kissing. What men love about a woman’s lips, and how the magic of locking lips – firmly, sloppily, tenderly, passionately, elusively and sensuously – is tops on his favorite relationship pastimes.
It was a typical early summer Saturday morning in Southern California. I had heard the forecast on the car radio on the way over. “Late night and early morning low clouds burning off to hazy afternoon sunshine, highs in the mid-80s to mid-90s.” Every Angelino knows this litany. It’s the same every year. I’m sitting on the floor in the living room watching cartoons. She comes out of her bedroom wearing her fluffy white robe. By this time, I already had a reputation for good hands. She drops herself in front of me, face down, and asks me to massage her back. I am, of course, happy to oblige, considering I’m 18.
I move to kneel beside her and start at her neck. Gently at first to warm up the muscles and to assess their condition. Gradually, I work my way down along her back, past her shoulder blades and farther. As I reach her hips, I hesitate. I know what lies beneath that fluffy cotton. It’s soft. It’s gently rounded, but not large. I slide my fingers down the sides teasing myself. Not being a bold risk-taker, I make the return trip toward her neck. I make this journey a couple of times, until she says, in a very relaxed voice, “Keep going. My legs need work, too.”
Again, I have that moment of hesitation. Does “keep going” mean skip over that deliciously shaped mound and move directly to thighs, or work my down. Emboldened, I work my way down. As I knead her gluteal flesh, she moans. Carefully, I proceed lower, working her thighs which don’t really need it.
The robe is one of those “shorty” robes that doesn’t fall as far as the knees. By the time I reach her knees, I am now massaging uncovered skin. Soft, smooth, warm, tender skin. I move purposefully around her knees, knowing they’re ticklish. Her calf muscles are exquisite. I’ve known for a long time she has gorgeous legs. I spend a little extra time there, because she likes to wear heels. My method requires that I make the return journey. As I slide my hands higher, I encounter the robe again. I let my fingertips slip beneath it, edging it marginally higher. She seems so relaxed as to be asleep. I am a little startled then when she moves her hands to the bottom of the robe and raises it above her backside.
The kneeling position has become a bit uncomfortable, so I reposition, straddling her legs. I’m now staring at that nearly perfect posterior covered only by a thin layer of pink cotton. Focus, boy, focus! Gotta job to do! Her thighs, so rarely seen, are as perfect as the rest of her. Silky smooth and toned. I work my magic the best I can and slide my hands up. As I reach her buttocks, I let my thumbs slide a little more inward than usual, into the crease at the top of her thighs. Again, she moans.
After rearranging the robe a bit, I continue up her back, making sure the pressure is even and consistent. Not an easy task at this point! Here on the floor before me is one of the most beautiful girls I know and I have my hands on every inch of her. I lean down to just above her ear and tell her, “I need a short break. My hands are starting to cramp.” She makes a bit of a pouty face, which on her is just too cute. I lie down on my back next to her. She doesn’t get up, she just sort of slides over to me, then up onto me. Her face is inches from mine, her chest pressed against mine. In this position, I can’t help but notice those two magnificent globes, separated from me by my t-shirt and her robe.
“You really are so very good at that, you know,” she whispers to me. I smile. She leans down and touches her lips to mine. The sensation is both electric and soothing. I feel her jaw move slightly. I gently press a little closer and slowly match her motions. Her lips are so soft, so deceptively full. Her touch is nearly imperceptible. There is obviously contact, but not the lust-driven attempt to press to the back of my head. No, she lingers, slowly playing the shape of her lips against mine, and then … I’m amazed. She parts her lips! I can feel the “oh” shape of her mouth against mine, still gentle, still soft. I open my lips to match hers and the soft, gentle rolling motions continue. Never being the kind to press an issue, I keep my tongue to myself. The sensation of an open-mouth kiss without tongue tango is beyond my ability to describe, at the time. I don’t want it to stop! She raises her hand to my cheek. Her fingers slide below my ear, cradling my head to her. My heart is racing. I’m working really hard to control my breathing and maintain enough presence of mind to stay engaged.
Eventually, she slowly closes her lips, continuing the gentle motion as she does. She separates her lips from mine, in the slowest motion I’ve ever seen. When I finally open my eyes, she’s smiling at me. It’s not an amused smile. It’s so tender. She wiggles down a little bit and rests her head on my chest. Within moments, she’s asleep. I let my hand caress her back, with a little extra pressure, a mini-massage of sorts. When I can tell that she is fully asleep, I consider a great many options. Some of them are decidedly ungentlemanly. In what may be the biggest mistake of my life, I slowly rearrange us so that I can pick her up.
I cradle her in my arms and carry her to her bed. To my consternation, the robe falls open below the belt as I carry her. I now have the front view of those pink cotton panties, and the space below her navel. As I place her gently on the bed, I screw my courage up several dozen notches, and kiss that sweet, soft skin between her navel and her panties. She stirs only slightly, then curls onto her side.
I go back out to the living room and sit on the couch in front of the tv. I’m back to the waiting I was doing when she came out. I have a pleasant day planned.
That sweet, soft, loving girl is the little sister of my girlfriend.
