I pucker my lips and start with a dry one. One smack dab in the middle of his mouth. The second one on one corner and the third on the other. Slowly, my hands creep up to his wet hair and I fist the strands as I keep kissing him, giving him little pecks. Just when I gather enough courage to taste his skin with my tongue, his hands grip the uniform at my waist. He hauls me toward him, clashing our fronts together, and forces my mouth open with his. He isn’t like me. He isn’t shy. He doesn’t start me off with dry pecks. Nope. He simply invades my mouth with his tongue like it’s his God-given
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