He was unsure of her. From the very first day. He thought, no, he KNEW she was playing with him. A sinister game, more for her amusement than for the times gone by. But she was wildly intoxicating. The more he drank her in, the more he needed her. And today, he had drunk from her lips, she was truly ambrosiac. It delighted him, to know that she needed him. In her playful way. She’d tease him, but he knew better. He could tease better. He had learnt from her how to seduce her. And even though he did it for the first time, he had her on tenterhooks. He realised, surprised, that he was a natural. Ah, he’d always known he was brilliant. And being with her, he knew it even better.
As he watched that morning, she glided into her rightful place, by his side. He watched her out of the corner of her eye, captivated. She chattered, so animatedly. He smiled to himself, and let go. Sometimes to her annoyance, but he just couldn’t stop himself from sharing all his thoughts, his passions with her! He was happy. She would look at him a particular way which would drive him wild. He’d resist, on and on, until he finally found the courage and grabbed her hand. She didn’t resist. From then on, she’d herself grab his hand, whenever she could. And their hands, fingers, would stray close whenever apart for a few minutes. It was a game of attraction. And they were both playing to lose.
It was already dark and he was driving her home. The evening had come to a close but his desires hadn’t. She kept glancing at him, making her intentions amply clear, but he was too scared, too cowardly to act. He tried to make the most of her impatience, but couldn’t bring himself to really do what he desired most. She told him to turn into a dark alley. Finally. His heart beating fast, turning into the lane, he resolved to act. After all, he’s the man here! Stopping the car, he pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers. She was only too willing to let him. She had such juicy lips! If only he could have done this earlier… Kissed his chubby little friend, when they were younger. This felt so natural; it didn’t feel unfamiliar. He knew every part of her.
He looked at her, played with her with passion, merrily watching her. They were more than friends. They were meant to be more than friends. She couldn’t have enough of his lips, he knew exactly what she needed! His hands strayed, of their own accord, and she didn’t stop him. They seemed to own each other. Their lips met with fury, with lust, but also with an old companionship, and an old love. Maybe it wasn’t a first kiss, and maybe they were not lovers for the first time.