iii -  her mouth

  Oh the things that come out of her mouth. Sentences tilted and drawn in her sweet Pennsylvania accent. The frequent use of words most of our mothers would not approve of. The lithe tongue penetrated through the middle with a shiny metal stud. The wee bits of precious saliva that shower my face during her intoxicated excitement. Those are the things I cherish. These are the things I do not…

The promises that turn out to be untruths. Her boyfriends name. Remnants of dinner after one too many shots of Southern Comfort.    

And yet I look forward to them all the same. 

She knows music of all eras, artists and genres and she loves to sing. When she hits the high notes she closes her playful eyes and her mouth forms a life out of every word.

Her lips offer a perpetual hint of some unspoken amusement. Sometimes she’s even willing to share the joy. Other times, she simply pouts me into submission. Inching up or down though, they are always sleek and full of promise for pleasure.

And what of this pleasure? When she puckers and moves in so close that you can see the perfect skin on her moist lips. What of the occasional kiss? 

On the cheek is a winning lottery ticket. On the lips is a new lease on life. 

Her kisses can be wet and passionate. They never seem to care who might be looking on. They can be purposeful and they can be magical. And they can be manipulative. But more than anything they are unfortunately few and far in between. At least for me.