My hand brushed hers and made a slow, deliberate ascension along her forearm and passed her elbow where my fingertips could grace to the soft parts of...her flesh where the joints met. Cupping her shoulder I dared the first kiss and drank of her lips as if they were ripened fruit. My breath failed me as if being expelled to make room for the passion that was swelling within me. When she returned the kiss I was filled with her breath, exchanged for my own and we collided as one. Her hands on me. She moaned and I bit firmly but not forcefully down on her.Her hands came up my back lifting my shirt so that she could run them over my shoulders. I remember well the feeling of her nails sliding down my skin. I had scratch marks running down my back for a week afterwards.I'm not sure how her shirt and bra came off but I remember suckling her nipples. She had those light pink nipples that get so fiercely hard when they are played with. The areola hardening and crinkling with the proud nipple. More

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