Kiss me

One of the rudest things you can do is kiss me passionately. I don’t do passion. And don’t even think about pressing me against a wall, making demands with your lips. This is not sexy nor is it pleasing in any way. Who the hell are you to come nibbling and nudging?

And why is it that you must entangle your fingers in my hair and pull it? Seriously, pulling my hair? Do you want to kiss me or fight me?

And stop pushing your knee against my crotch! I’m not an assailant, nor a dog, and I do not nourish secret wishes to be rocked on your lap. Just stop it.

And will you stop staring at me?! Close your goddamn eyes, this isn’t a moment you want to remember seeing nothing but the indistinct bridge of my nose. By rule of kissing, you don’t look at each other. I already know what you look like, hence me agreeing to kiss you, and even though dilated pupils was a big hit during the late 1700th century, I don’t need to look into your eyes to know you want me.

Because your palms are sweating. Don’t try and wipe them off on my shirt, that’s fucking gross! Are you trying to feel me up or use me as a napkin? Because honestly, I can’t tell the difference!

And will you stop breathing so damn hard through your nose? See, this is why we need to kiss slowly, because believe it or not, there is nothing arousing about your harsh ”passionate” buffalo snorting.

You can let go of my head now, I’m not a puppet you need to steer. Just relax, there we go. See, isn’t this a lot nicer? Our bodies melting against each other, our tongues barely gently touching. Just hold me and let my hands do the wandering. You know, when I’m at ease like this, I almost forget what a vile and bacteria riddled cesspool your mouth is. It’s so sweet. Now I can feel my knees go weak. Your hair is so soft.

Don’t stop..

Are you licking my tonsils?!