Winter Season

That kiss

It was almost midnight before they stopped and took a shower, Oscar laid on the couch. He opened his arms for her. She smiled at him, “no.”

It broke his heart. ‘No’. But she was smiling, he told himself.

“Lay on the other side.” He did as she had asked and changed his position on the couch. Then she slid into him. “That’s better. I can hear your heart beat stronger from this side.” She snuggled in closer.

“Would you like to go to church with me Sunday? The preacher hasn’t called it off yet”

“I don’t think I ever asked; where do you go?”

“Corner Baptist.”

That warmth he felt when she was around grew stronger. His mother only sucked it away for a little while. Could it be that Esther was stronger than his mother? That the feelings he was developing for her could heal him? No, she couldn’t heal him. That was too much to lay at someone’s door. She could help him but it was up to him to heal himself.

“Please don’t be mad at Chet.”

“I’m never mad at him for very long.”

“Or me.”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“That exchange with your mother.”

“Sweetheart, no way.”

She smiled to herself, he called her sweetheart.

He thought he concealed a moan as the tugging in his groin got stronger and he shifted under her. He felt her raise up slightly. When he opened his eyes, she was staring at him. With his free hand, he stroked her face, “what?”

She placed a soft delicate kiss on his lips. His whole body was a live wire of erotic nerves. She put her hand at the back of his head and guided it toward her, only stopping when they were nose to nose. He freed his other hand and slowly directed it up her back under her shirt. He stopped just short of where she needed him too. She drew her breath through her teeth. Oscar reached up to kiss her. He tried to pour all of the emotions he felt into a single kiss.

The kiss was breath taking. Esther felt his desperate passion, his need, his hunger, the pounding of his heart against her lips. He explored the depths of his desire with a kiss. She allowed him at first, and then answered with her own desires. She came up for air panting, “another kiss like that and I could become the whore of Babylon.” She placed one hand on either side of his head and stared at his parted lips. She met him with another soft kiss. He took his hands down her back to the ample cheeks of her butt and pushed her into his body. She could feel one measure of a man.

He squeezed her butt several times before pushing her into him harder still. “We both need a cold shower.” She hissed.

“No,” he whispered. “Let’s just lay here.” He kissed her again, that same desperate passionate need. She was about to fly apart.

“O,” she whimpered.

“Yes.”

She cuddled into her favorite spot, in the bend of his arm, with her head on his chest, listening to his racing heartbeat.

Their cuddle session was interrupted by his phone. When he hung up, he held Esther closer, “no church Sunday.”

“I was getting ready to ask, ‘who calls at one o’clock in the morning?”

“Our preacher has interesting habits.”

Winter Season