Making Love

He's kissing me. 

My drunk brain slowly processed the thought that it actually took me a full minute to realize what's going on. By the time I did, I was already under a spell and tearing my lips from his seemed next to impossible. 

My eyes fluttered close when his lips began to move rhythmically against mine, coaxing me to move my lips and join the flow. My will to push him away melted like a candle. All the reasons I still have with me left my body and I began to respond to him hungrily.

As though my hands had minds of their own, they freely clung to his neck.

His lips moved gently at first, then it grew deeper. His tongue invaded my mouth. Without inhibitions, I opened my lips and fought with his tongue.

It feels so wrong and yet so right. I never imagined doing this to any man except to him.