International Kissing Day

“I walked outside and expected no one to be around. I was delighted when I looked over the bushes to see you standing there, so beautifully displaying your gorgeous body.”

“Oh, well, I don’t know about that.” She stuttered and the arms that had fallen to her side as she enjoyed the rain crept up towards covering her breasts again.

“No, no, please don’t cover yourself, you look so good. The water just caresses your beautiful curves.” Richard took a step forward and reached out a hand as if to touch her.

“No, don’t,” She cried, “we can’t- you mustn’t-I’m old enough to be your mother.”

“I doubt that, “he replied and stepped closer, “and honestly, I don’t care, you’re fucking hot and I want you.”

His fingers touched her as those words zinged through her mind. He skimmed his hands down her side, delicately sliding his thumb over her breast and stomach, his hand stopping just above her buttocks. Before she could protest he pulled her to him and their lips collided as his arm wrapped around her and pulled her tightly to him.

His lips pressed against hers, they vibrated with his moan of pleasure and Sandra’s mind stopped working and her instincts kicked in. She kissed back with fevered passion. She enjoyed the undulation of his soft, delicate lips against hers and revelled in the feeling. This was just what she’d imagined, just what she’d fantasised about and the heavy droplets of water covering her back just added to the arousal coursing through her veins.

“No, no, no.” I tried to wriggle from his grasp, but as he leant down to the ground to scoop up the snow, he pulled me with him. I kept giggling, shrieking and struggling to escape, but he was holding me fast and he pulled the zip down on my mac until my chest was exposed. He smooshed a massive handful of cold whiteness into the creamy flesh there, pressed it down and squashed it against my exposed skin. It took my breath away. He held his hands there as it melted. The icy shock tickled and made me giggle and gasp. When the mass of moistness melted completely, he left his cold hand pressed against my warming skin. The shock of his touch, so intimately pressed over my heart, took my breath away.

“I surrender.” I gasped, my heart thumping.

“Well, I’m not going to let you.” He grinned, turning to scoop up more snow.

“No!” I screamed and tried to pull away from him. All I managed to do was overbalance. I fell to the snow covered lawn, pulling Will down on top of me.

Laughing hysterically, he spluttered, “Are you okay?”

I was giggling, too.

“Yes, I’m fine.” I felt his body heat warming me. I became aware of my breath as it escaped in short pants.

“You’ve got bit of snow just here…” he barely whispered the words as his fingers brushed gently against my cheek. They were cold but they heated me up, slowly at first. The flames of lust licked down his fingers to my cheek and then to my neck and lower to suffuse my chest. His fingers traced a light pattern, softly stroking as our eyes locked. I was lost in the depths of those treacle-coloured orbs. I wanted to lean up and press my lips to his.

I thought I was dreaming when I realised his lips were pressed against mine. My eyes closed and my hands wrapped around his neck. His lips were cold, but then so were mine. As we gently undulated them, the heat flowed through from the points where we were joined to suffuse our lips, mouths, hearts and whole bodies with a burning urge, a fiery need.

The kiss was not satisfied with being small and tight-lipped. It compelled me to press my lips harder to his, to move them apart and slide them all over the surface of his mouth. His lips were soft, supple and giving. He was kissing me as strongly as I was kissing him, his hand gently cupped my face. The snow below me was cold, but it was a delicious contrast to the heat of his body on top of mine. He pulled his lips from me.

“We should go inside,” he gasped, “before you catch pneumonia.”

I straightened, bending my elbows and bringing my bound hands together in front of me as if I were venerating him as my leader. He stared at me for a moment, his gaze taking in the bound hands, the chocolate-smudged breasts, the long, exposed legs in little ankle boots, that must look ridiculous with my general nakedness. A noise rumbled from his chest to his lips and sent my senses into overdrive.

He ripped off his T-shirt, his apron already wrapped around my wrists, and strode over. He pushed me until my bum was level with the table. His legs rested between my thighs, his arms around my waist, and he lifted me onto the table, with no outward sign of exertion. I wanted to run my hands up and down his shoulder muscles. They bulged so magnificently, I guessed that baking built good upper body strength. It must have done for him to lift me with so little effort.

It was strange how his next action seemed so much more intimate, so much more sexual than anything that had gone before. As he rested between my thighs, he cupped my cheeks with his strong, slightly sticky hands and leant in for a long, hard and demanding kiss.

It pulled my desire through me and I found it all to be displayed there, where our lips touched and met. He could feel how turned on I was , how desperate I was for this, for him, and I did not feel embarrassed. I felt empowered as he forced his tongue between my lips and I pressed my pelvis up, longing to feel his fingers, his tongue or his cock thrust inside me there.