50 - Jessy

Hazz's kiss gave me the impression that angels touched harps and that heavy and soft clouds surrounded us, because it was the same as going to paradise and coming back.

The touch of his hands on my skin gave the feeling that nothing in the world was more sacred than that gesture. I felt hungry, with a hole in my chest that could only close with more and more of it. Everything he gave me in his kiss, I took it.

Every gesture of hunger, I corresponded. It was a delivery, a song, and a poem for the few who knew how to appreciate it. I loved the way he touched me and made me feel like the most special creature in the world. I loved feeling like more than just a girl he would have sex with.

All right, I had taken all that, but I didn't expect him to involve me in that growing need to do more than just distribute some kisses, skip the foreplay and start with the most fun part of the meeting.

I didn't expect him to kiss me as if it also depended on that, as if his body didn't accept the idea