I Want To Be Torn Free of Societal Rule

She was my girlfriend way back when.

Candy was her choice for lip gloss and it wasn’t that it was ever good or bad for you, it was because this was something I liked. I especially liked this taste. It was sweet. “You always want sweet, candy sweet lips,” she said
“It’s only natural, I love it,” I said, “They are natural.”

Not that plain lips produce no taste, plain lips were only as natural. They just tasted well, natural. I wanted sweet kisses candy kisses.

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Perhaps the youth with their kisses, their lips and tongues, they be touching each other passionately and kissing one another deeply often. We’ve all done this you know.

She likes to be kissed. I don’t know why but so do I. I love passionately kissing her. We were always cresting on the moment waiting, wanting to give each other plane kisses. They’re plain. We talked and chatted on the phone often wanting to be with each other always. We were younger then. We loved each other’s passion, caressing and kissing.

The kisses she gave me tasted sweet, she had sweet lips, they were good for kissing. Sometimes these kisses were like candy. I’m eating her like she’s candy. Her mouth is like candy.

Plain lips and simple lips are more natural. When her lips parted our tongues and lips came together and we kissed. Sometimes she didn’t use lip gloss, our first-time deep kiss was a penetrating deep kiss. She liked this and she always wants to laugh, caressing and be kissed deeply passionately like those plain kisses.

….

I started to go backwards. 
I wanted to.
How could I, where would I go. 
How would that work?
“You mean go backwards?”
“Yes.”
“You mean go backwards with her?”
“Yes.”
“You have to find her.”

Oh, this could be a good challenge provided… you still both want to….
We were young teenagers.

The tide would swallow me up. I think
this annoys me but the current saved me.

They say the current will save you. It was at this spot pushing them directly across the embankment not yet starting out. Not yet. It was shallow there. But I touched her by accident because I was reaching for stability and my footing slipped. I have touched whatever was stable. I have groped her by accident. I felt her. I held her close.

I then fell down on top of her by accident. We laughed.

She knew me I knew her and of the finer things she afforded to herself. They were linen sheets and satin sheets.
Her thread count/cloths which rippled tightly because they were too numerous a count. Her pillows piled high and she loved her soft pillows. She likes her bed. She loved story telling before bedtime. She likes to be tucked into bed around her satin sheets.

We loved our night caps.

She wants kisses always at bedtime
deeper better. She always loves her sweet kiss in the mouth and on her lips. Her perfume, ‘Sheyenne’ love her, big kisses especially for her this spellbounds me this perfume.

I loved her for fear or otherwise.

The Bedroom at night-time was for big kisses. She teases with a touch,
“What have I done,” she says.

“What do I do.”
She sounds just like my neighbor friend.
“I dunno.”
I felt her hand touch me. I waited.
What could I do? What would I do?
I loved her out fear. Her sheer innocence.
Laying back looking towards the stars, laying awake at night I waited.

She lifted me up potentially where I lay and she made me start yelling, “I coming, I coming.”

They drank and ate.

“Pardon me, that’s nice tropical sunshine.”

Her curtains and windows are dashing.
She’s immovable she doesn’t move.
Who can blame her. Imma kiss it.
Who can blame me? She knows this is her spot.

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