Watermelon Kisses

Sitting topless on the sunporch on a steamy summer evening. A watermelon cut up between us.

We greedily slurped through the pink, slice after slice, spitting mouthfuls of seed. Juice ran down our chins, our necks, our chests. A long drip rolled slowly down, to her soft nipple where my tongue met it, following its path back to her mouth, where I lingered. When we had eaten the whole bowl, we laid together on the cool porch floor, bellies round and sticky. We held sugared hands and giggled like kids. I propped myself on an elbow and smiled at her. She smiled sweetly back. We kissed. Wet, sweet, deeply; our tongues liquid, still candy sweet. I sucked her full lips, her chin and neck to her chest. I sucked and she sucked sugar from our skin.

We took it to the shower. Quickly the sweet washed away. Hot water ran between our thighs. Hands ran between our thighs. Too much steam, we sat on the cool toilet lid and slid together.

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