I slowly covered her uncovered hand. She looked at me surprised.“Qamaar, that was not what you were supposed to do…qamaar!…wait!…you bastard!”She was laughing as I put the fingers of my left hand through those of her right hand, and vice versa, pushed her into the bus stand, pressed her against the stand, pressed her hands against it lightly, and we started kissing each others lips as I was rubbing her hands against the wall, upwards and slowly, we holding each others hands. When I was holding her hands and moving them that was, she never bothered to object me. Our eyes were closed but I felt on my lips that she was smiling.We were not just kissing but plying on each others mouths, with me holding her lower lip with my lips, pulling myself back till it went off, kissing her again, doing the same with her upper-lip, kissing again, cleaning inside her mouth with my tongue, we both rubbing our tongues against each other, pushing them against that each other, biting her lower lip. ’ I said and brought my hand to cup her breast and roll her stiff, crinkly nipple between thumb and finger. Kiva’s head fell back on my shoulder with a groan, her hand gripping my wrist firmly before it arched upward and entangled in my hair, pulling me towards her lips again for a fierce kiss. Our tongues alternatively dueled and caressed each other, I tasted her mouth, the mint of her tongue and dry hints of the champaign all overlaid with a smoky lust-shot lightning that burrowed deep into my brain and exploded with the force of a supernova. My mind, already fogged with the salty-sweet taste of her lips and the sharp coppery tang of my need, forgot about the gentle mauling of her nipple, and my hand rose to gently cup her head, holding her lovingly to my lips, as our kiss grew rougher, more demanding. I wanted this woman. I needed this woman. I needed her like I needed air, like I needed light, like I needed life. She intoxicated me, stripped me of my delusions, and asked for.
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