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ng, delicious seconds later, I feel his head move and
then his lips are pressing the top of my head. I pull his hand to my
face and press my lips into the work-toughened palm.
A gentle pressure urges me and I turn within his arms. Suddenly, I
am all lithe and graceful. I am desired and beautiful. He takes my face
in his hands and kisses my forehead, my eyes, my chin, my cheeks. His
beard is scratchy and I don't care. Dozens of small, urgent kisses,
everywhere on my face but my lips. I ache inside and yearn to feel his
mouth on mine.
His hands leave my face and I turn my mouth toward him, waiting --
for a moment. Now he is kissing me sweetly, lightly, as if my lips were
a delicate morsel to be savored carefully. I throw my arms around his
neck, pulling myself up against him, pulling him down to me. I mash my
mouth against his hungrily and a moment later feel his tongue lightly
dancing across my lips. I part my lips slightly and he coaxes me to meet
his touch there as his arms wrap around the small of my back and he
crushes my torso against
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