Our First Kiss was Perfect, Then You Left

relationships
by: Reymund T. Alagos

The wind started to whistle and the branches were about to dance as the July rain started to pour. It was cold but I remembered everything hot.

It was the sixteenth room, it wasn’t ours but it was perfect. Perfectly empty of its owners but completely full of the untouchable things and the darkness.

You sat still on one of the beds as I locked the doors. It was really dark and all I can hear is our hastened breathing our hearts exploding, and the crickets chirping somewhere by the windows. But I found you somewhere in the corner, I can sense the grin on your face and the excitement.

You pounced like a hungry lion, a kiss on my lips. It was soft and wet and perfect. I saw it as an attack and I retaliated. We started to undress while our lips were locked tight, tongues swinging. Heart thumps.

We found our way into one of the beds without even looking. Professionals.

You were half-naked, and so am I. Every kiss was a struggle. Every kiss sucked my air out of my lungs. I can feel my alveoli screaming for air. Then, you breathe into my ears. I tingled. I can’t breathe. I was excited.

I started to go down, slowly. Licking every cell in between. You were wet.

You flipped. You shoved me down into the bed. Then, I felt the aggression but I gave in. It was perfect, just like I imagined. Just like I wanted. Spanked. Fucked. Cuddled. Fucked. Came. Slept, cuddling.

I woke up. My clothes were all over the floor, yours were not. You’re gone but it was sweet of you to left me a note.

“Hi! Thank you for last night! Until next time.” — Tom

But of course, I know your name wasn’t Tom. You were just like the fifteen others. A no-string-attached, one-night-stand kind of guy.

After all, it was the sixteenth room and you were the sixteenth guy.

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