29 April 2012
~Erm this isn't really smutty, just be warned if you are young or of a fragile disposition I guess~
The first time we kissed we were both ridiculously drunk. We'd started on the wine at eleven-thirty in the morning and continued at a steady pace throughout the day. By five, we were both dizzy with alcohol and in the mood to find some fun. Heading out through the bustle of last-minute shoppers, we giggled and drunkenly managed to acquire food of some sort. Then, onwards, to our favourite pub and yet more drinking.
As often happens with the inebriated, our talk turned to relationships and sex. Just having the conversation with you made my heart thump hard, pushing blood to unmentionable places. Casually, you turned the conversation to even dirtier topics and, I suppose unsurprisingly, it culminated in our first kiss. It was like no other; fierce in its passion, prolonged, indescribably delicious. More than I had ever imagined.
Stupidly I thought that maybe, just maybe, it meant more than two drunken, lonely friends making out. You said you loved me but couldn't give me what I wanted. That you didn't deserve it. That you would ruin it all in the end anyway. I cried in the taxi home, the taste of you still on my lips.
Reflections - Part Three • Opuss № I