Our Last Kiss
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The last time your hands were on my body it was out of passion. The kind of lust that can only reveal itself out of love. Your fingers ran across my sticky, sweaty neckline, tracing down to my chest.
Truthfully, your kisses were the only ones I’ve ever missed. You knew what I wanted, and you wanted that for me.
You left soft, wet prints on my cheeks and chin. Both giggling and totally engulfed in how quickly, how fast we both needed to be close to one another.
Slowing down wasn’t an option this time, it was the perfect chance for us both to submit to each other completely. The way you lean into me, holding me as close as you can in our confined condition of your old, gold Pontiac. Your rough fingers touching my tanned skin in anyway they could, your voice still whispering in my ear through the passionate pecks.
Breathing each other in like oxygen, it’s an addictive feeling we both can’t seem to get enough of in that moment. We kissed until the air got too thick, filled with our innocent laughs and truths we could finally pull out of each other.
If this was the last time our lips merged perfectly, the last time I could taste the remnants of the joint we had earlier, the last time your big hands found their way gently to my throat, at least we ended it right.
