Spirit Kiss

By James T Staton

This game starts innocently enough. We sit near one another; sounding each other out, with coquettish banter, flirting glances, and imperious stares. Our auras are up like ramparts, and while our mouths speak challenging words, our minds ponder thoughts locked in silence.

Time passes in this childlike play, and slowly, fascinated by our nearing proximity, we advance, until lightly, fleetingly, we touch. Cautiously, like wild animals who are fearful and will not abide the touch of another, gradually, like weather wearing down a mountain, we tame our terrors and touch more fully. The light and fleeting becomes lingering, our hands begin reaching as our inhibitions start to fail. Our souls brush one another, but by their separation, like butterflies, our hearts are still divided, desperately fluttering at the boundaries of the grasping intricate nets our intellects hold between us.

In the fullness of time, hands are clasped and held and my intrepid spirit flows over yours. Arising at the point of connection, the foaming crests of the soft satin waves inch over fingertips, hands, and up the arms moving in feather light touches, like rain drops or tears, touching and enfolding, lovingly acknowledging every curve every hair and dimple, seeking the hollows and searching them fully. This rising tide reaches the shoulders with a soft caress of velvety passion and moves on like the kisses of butterfly wings, washing over the shoals and shores of your essence.

Lightly, lingeringly encompassing, the lapping waves stroke the slope of your chest and the hollow of your back; it touches the curve of your smooth belly, advancing in a soft storm of passion, like lightning in a mounting thunderstorm: electrically, sizzlingly, kissing the button and driving on. My warming showers of desire slide over smooth soft flanks like clean raindrops on new lilac petals and tenderly fill your hollows. Like a warm wind in the apple blossoms, my aura caresses the outside of the your thighs, and, with a thousand humming bird's tongues, lightly tastes the inside. And as this tempest of joy sweeps down, flowing over the sensitive, velvetly delicate, skin at the back of the knees, it progresses in vigorous, yet courtly, squalls inundating in rolling bubbling lather the completion of the nethermost extremities. Thus leaving only the graceful neck, the proudly held head and the radiant countenance unexplored.

This my effervescent aura of love warmly embraces, tenderly kisses, the neck, the throat, and twines, like ivy tendrils climbing in vegetative ecstasy, it's filaments through your silky soft hair at the nape. And as it softly wreaths your hair in an aura of light breezes, my encompassing love pauses, and again gently shapes the contours of your body paying loving attention to every dimple and velvet expanse. Then progressively it tastes the shapes and sights of your coquettishly peeking ears, deeply pellucid eyes, and pertly blushing cheeks, finally resting at the satin lips. And while dipping furtively in for a taste of the sweet nectar of your spirit, my being is touched, tasted, encompassed, by the flower of your mind's butterfly thoughts, wherein love breaks it's chains and overflows this singular essence, intertwining tendrils of playful fire in brightly flaming bonfires of desire, until by joining two we have become one in a united whole. And as this unified seed of loving joy-filled passion reaches fruition, it bursts it's bonds, in a blazing, pyrotechnically flowering, display of bravely vivid passion, which fills our heart's garden with light.