My friend says I should be making out with strangers in bars, that not everyone has to be The One. But that’s not really my style. I’ve never known how to lust.
When there’s great chemistry you don’t even notice what you’re doing because you’re transported to this special make out place with little unicorns and where all of your dreams come true.
You touch me and everything is strawberry and piña coladas, my taste buds favor the sweet side of things. I make floral arrangements out of nerves every time you look at me.
“His breath was so rank—I’m talking demons dancing on his tongue rank.”
I was immensely clamy and I didn’t want to open my eyes because I didn’t think when I opened them it would actually be you. But it was, and that was the first time in years I felt whole.
I think I’m just being honest, but I’m saying things and they are making you feel naked and you don’t like it. I mistakenly assume that everyone wants to be as transparent as me. Me, with my heart dripping down my sleeves. I wear it proudly and then cry when someone breaks it.
If someone gives you quick kiss on the cheek, it can be them saying, “Hello,” but if their lips linger there a moment, it can mean they’re flirting with you.
tl;dr – Don’t shove caramel and peanut bars up your ass, you’ll cry.
I want to keep kissing him until our lungs start shouting in unison, “Hon! Give us a second to breathe!”
You don’t need handcuffs or the promise of a threesome to ramp things up in the bedroom.