Me beija. It is Portuguese, spoken with Brazilian carioca accent. It means kiss me. Nothing sounds so sexy. Whispered at your ear, half breathed, half sighed, warm and languid, not hint of the European Portuguese harshness or of the Spanish flatness. Two words full of promises, rather than a simple demand.
He kisses with his mouth way too open, as if he´d swallow me whole, his constant trembling all the more evident. His tongue probes into my mouth, collecting my own tongue rather than caressing. He´s all frenzi, and anguish, a pulsating erection within his pants ready to explode any moment.
Lips almost as soft as a woman´s, and a tongue that does not seem to have a tip. I am surprised at how agressive and manly he can be though. His kiss is wet, and shameless… his hands and and body sway softly against mine.
Do mouths have boundaries? Is there an unspoken rule saying that tongues should not cross into each other´s mouths, and just caress each other were the lips meet? Perhaps that´s what a techinical kiss mean. So pretty and hot to onlookers, but no action inside.
Then there are those perfect kisses, men who take their time and savor the moment. A duet of tongue, of subtle biting and nibbling, very much like foreplay… the passionate alpha or the sensitive lover, calculating or spontaneous… all in a sweep of tongue.
Promises unfulfilled? A tender caress or intense foreplay? Me beija, I say, and in his embrace I gather so much of who he is and what he has to offer! That first one decision that may lead to a delightful sexual congress, to disappointment, to a relationship… two words and lips meeting… so much in so little!