Too Much? Not Enough? Just Right?

I leaned toward her and kissed her. It was soft at first, like the first lolling wave on a tropical beach. But then the tide began to roar in, and soon, we were awash on the sand, watching helplessly as our resistance ebbed. The waves pulled us under, and we drowned there, in the beautiful lagoon of Kari’s king-sized bed. I gasped, tore myself away, came up for air.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, Kari.” I wrapped my hands around my nose and tried to breathe some sanity. I could find little.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice was too small, a bit too sad.

“You aren’t some rebound girl. You’re the kind of woman a man wraps his life around.”

I reopened my eyes and looked at her. Large, brilliant, brown eyes smiling at me. Resistance was futile.

Kari said, “Couldn’t you have started being noble a little later?” She held up two fingers. “I was this close.” Another smile, this time her lips.

Futile. Prepare to be assimilated.

I kissed her again and once more, and then a lingering, tropical replay that set our lagoon to churning once again. But she was softness, and softer, and softer still, and I pulled back again, this time, joyously.

“You know,” she said, “I’ve been known to orgasm just from kissing.”

I stared at her for a long time. Then I stopped staring and started kissing. I’ve never been the type to back down from a direct challenge.

Ah, l’amour.

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