3. A Perfect Beard

A micro story

She wasn't entirely sure what it would be like to kiss a bearded man but against her better judgement she could barely wait to find out. So many questions, fantasies and dreamt-up scenarios had plagued her thoughts for the past four weeks but in real time none of that existed; her mind was blank, focussed only on external stimulus, and when he kissed the carotid artery of her neck she was thankful to be sitting down because her legs turned to jelly. Ripples ascended from her lap, skin now alight, and as he made the first tentative move to her lips all she could think about was being right there in that moment. Uncertainty gave way to audacious desire and she kissed him back, his perfect mouth soft, wet and completely consuming. Part of her held back, cautious not to let go but not wanting the moment to end, his tongue pressing lustfully into hers and imprinting an indelible memory of what a proper French kiss should be. She couldn't stop the thoughts of how his tongue would feel over the rest of her body... he knew how to use it and she knew she couldn't resist it if he did. Not ready for it to end but certain that it should, the feeling of guilt she expected from this libidinous moment was curiously absent.