Sated Hunger

I was asked to write about a kiss as an assignment. I'd allow you exercise your rights as a reader to think and fantasize about this being about me. But you know as writers, we live in a world of illusions and make believe... happy kissing reading.



'Feelings starts with little things; the caress of warm air on the face, the smell of rain on sand, the intimacy shared amongst lovers'.

    "Ah" I sighed, smiled morosely as I replayed the moment I would describe as the best night ever.

     We stood next to each other and the heat from our breathe surrounded us like an enclave. My heart beat raced and my body strained closer to his, as it begged to close the distance. As I raised my head, he leaned down, cupped my head in his hands and our lips met.

     To say it was a clash of tongues would be painting a picture of rivers oshun and oba. It was more like the stroke from the brush of a painter against a bare canvass, gliding across lovingly. Our tongues embraced, merged together with intensity built like the tango. Heady and free from inhibition, I traced my lips across his face, earlobes, mouth and I drunk greedily. I was lost in the moment and I didn't want to come up for air.

This wasn't a simple kiss of greeting, it was a filling of a deep hunger and I was sated.