Your freshly painted lips touch as your eyes look over to mine to make sure I am getting a good eyeful of your dirty little act. Her tongue wetly lash...s out of her lips at yours. Slow, slutty tongue fencing as you two start to give into the passion that only this act has. You couldn’t kiss another man like this. What would be the point? It’s the sheer wanton act of kissing a girl you ache for some nights. Her wet little feminine kisses matching yours as your lipstick smears lightly on hers. I never forgot him. I never forgot our first night together. He only showed up thirty years later when I got married to Momma Ann's and Don's first son. Don't ask me how or why it had come to this. I was twenty-five years his senior. He was a strange boy. Choleric. A true tyrant who abused of his status as Don's and Momma Ann's son and heir . Not tall at all. A genuine little stick insect Rambo, as Thomas put it so nicely earlier tonight. We were in love. Both of us. Strange, I know. Why had he. More

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