I love kisses.

It seems like a ‘no shit, Sherlock’ kind of comment but I really love kisses. I love giving them, receiving them, writing about them, thinking about them. I really fucking love kisses.

The little butterfly kisses I dance across whichever part of H is the closest, their back when their sleeping next to me, their undercut when I am curled around them, their arm as it wraps around me. The centre of their chest when I’m enveloped in their hug and their thigh, inside or out, whenever you know, I’m in the area.

The gentle peck on the lips when I’m cuddled into them and looking up into their eyes, when they bring their smile to meet mine. The kiss on the top of my head as they pause to touch me on their way past, something I do to them as well.

The hello and the goodbye, the tender and the demanding. The softest whisper of lip against lip and the kiss with teeth that leaves my mouth sore and aching. I am a kiss slut. I want them all.

H is generous with their kisses and I am greedy for them. I was wonderfully pleased when they climbed into bed and climbed directly on top of me. They were all around me, embracing me and whispering in my ear.

“I love you. I love you so, so much.”

I hugged them so tightly. I squeezed hard, overwhelmed by emotion, unable to speak. They lifted slightly, looked down at me, their face a picture of love. I’m sure I craned my neck up needing their kiss, wanting to respond in the best way I know how without words. They leant down and kissed me. And they didn’t stop kissing me. Our lips rolled and undulated together. I pressed up into H, ran my hands over their back and shoulders, put my all into that kiss.

It only stopped when we needed breath. I would pull back a little or H would, and we’d gulp in air desperately, then push our mouths back together again. I shook with lust and need. The vibrations danced electric wherever my skin touched theirs. They pressed their thigh up between my legs and I rocked against it, moaning wantonly, the noise muffled by their lips.

They reached down between us and their fingers found my slit. My wet, aching cunt. I gasped, pulling away from their kiss as H found my clit. They rubbed with precise confidence and sealed my mouth with their lips once again. I was surrounded by pure pleasure. My clit was humming with orgasmic potential, my mouth was locked in a passionate kiss and my body was held down by the body of my lover, my kitty, my H.

I was overwhelmed, completely overwhelmed. I snatched a breath as I came against their fingers but before I could fully take a breath they kissed me again. Orgasm rolled after orgasm. I shook against them, groaned through their kisses, gasped when I broke free. I took in air that I needed but I needed their kiss more. Every break away was relief and torture all at once. I needed their kiss, I craved it, offered up my mouth and H took it. The cycle continued until I sobbed and shook as the undulating orgasms crashed together in a tsunami of ecstasy.

We moved round, talked, kissed, they pressed into pressure points and made me squeal because, well, of course they did. Then they were above again. Leaning in for another kiss. A wicked smile on their face, the one I love and fear in equal measure. The one that lets me know that something spectacularly sadistic is about to happen.

They gripped the sides of my throat and squeezed. I couldn’t breathe, their lips were on mine, their hand around my throat. I thrashed and gasped. They pulled back, let me have just a gulp of air before repeating the action.

Fuck me, it was hot. Even hotter when they used both hands. Their body weight on me, their hands on my throat, their lips on mine and everything in me screamed for release. But I didn’t want to be let go.

Did they see it in my eyes when they released my throat and lips? When I saw that sadistic lust in their eyes, the satisfied, lazy smile on their lips as they covered my mouth once more, their hands tightening again.

They love to hear me choke and fight for air. Sometimes they use their hands, sometimes they use their cock, sometimes it’s the whole of their arm as they cradle me in the crook of their elbow and I love it. It fucking scares the shit out of me, surrendering my breath, but it is such a thrill and I know, I know H will always let me go when I’ve had enough.

To have my breath stopped by a kiss, was poetic paradox. I fought to free myself, needing to breathe but the second the kiss was broken I craved for their lips on mine even though that would stop my breathing once more.

Their kiss gave life as it took away my breath.

I surrendered.

When we lay together a little later, sated and tired, my lips ached from the kisses. I smiled. I knew I’d have to write about it.

However, the next day H learnt a new way to make me pout. I need to stop pouting. They enjoy it too much.

I can’t remember what we were talking about. I’m sure it was to do with them being a sadistic sod because they already had that smile on their face. Yeah, the delighted, wicked one.

I looked up, their lips were close, I pursed mine, closed my eyes, got ready for the kiss and just at the last second they pulled away.

I pouted. They grinned all the wider. And so they leant in for another kiss. I was confident this one would connect. They couldn’t be that mean could they? Their lips whispered across mine, I lifted up to press into the kiss and they fucking pulled away again.

“Mean!” I whined in a high-pitched tone.

H laughed. Pure, wicked delight just exploded from between their lips.

How could they be so cruel?

Oh, they were even crueler. There were several more faked kisses. Several faked punches. They were taking great delight in my dissatisfaction. They drank my frustration eagerly, fed on my lust, on my increasing desperation. I swear, I was close to tears.

And they hit me, and they kissed me, and they turned me into a writhing mess of goo with their violence and their passion.

So I thanked them.

And that smile on their face, that smile was all delight, all love and still completely wicked.

I love H’s kisses.

I hate H not giving me those kisses. I ache and want and need and it hurts so much I could scream.

But when H gives me what I want after that denial, It’s the best kiss of all.

Sadistic seduction.

Masochist undone.