The heat of her breath sifted through their masks against his mouth. It was all warmth and no air, and yet he felt like she was inflating him. It was ... kiss without being a kiss. He didn’t think he would have kissed her without the masks in between. Kissing was personal. More personal than watching her take a shower. More personal than touching her from the inside and making her cum.Their lips parted but nothing could pass through the fabric between them. One of Abel’s hands dropped to Summer’s. They all told me that it was too time consuming, took too much planning and energy, that it just wasn’t practical. When my sweetie mentioned our rituals to a few of his close buddies, they all teased him that he was pussy-whipped. Funny thing is, none of them are happy with their sex lives. All of them wish they could have what we have. They just aren’t willing to put in the work.You see, each and every night, an hour before bedtime, my baby and I retire to the bathroom to begin our ritual.. More

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