Wet
She was so wet, just as water is wet. Her skin was soft. And wet.
I ran my hands down her wet body until they too had become wet. The feeling of her soft, wet skin made my manhood tingle. If I were any more excited, I just might wet myself.
I kissed her tenderly. Her soft, wet lips made my lips wet, but I ignored the wetness.
We continued to kiss and smile at one another with our wet mouths for what felt like hours. My mind was focused wholly on her, at least, until I became overwhelmed by the overwhelming smell of fish. But not just any fish, specifically a fish that was wet.
I tried to push the smell to the back of my mind, but its overwhelming stench demanded my attention. I breathed through my mouth in an attempt to not smell anything at all. But soon the overwhelming smell overwhelmed my mouth. I could TASTE the fish.
Nervously, I broke the silence.
“Do you… uh… do you smell that?” I asked.
I waited in silence for her to respond, but alas, she only stared back at me with those beautiful unblinking black eyes of hers.
The silence was killing me. I felt like my lover had been offended by my question, but there was no way I could take back what I had said about the overwhelming smell of wet fish.
There was only one way to break the tension. I nervously pulled at the zipper on my pants and tugged them off. My lover had a wetness of her own and soon, I would make her wetness wetter with my own wetness.
I moved in closer to her, scared that she might not want me after I mentioned her overwhelming smell of wet fish. She did not push me away so I edged closer.
“Dude,” I heard behind me. I turned, shielding the naked body of my lover behind my back. Nobody was to see the beautiful wetness of my wet lover.
“Dude,” the tall hippy repeated. “Are you really about to fuck that fish?”