The art of kissing

One of the best compliments I’ve ever received is being told I’m a good kisser. I don’t know why I weigh that compliment above all else. I just do. Perhaps I should reflect more, when I have time, on why being a good kisser is so important to me. Maybe it’s because the movement of the tongue represents the tenacity and fight and passion a person has in their character. In the past year, the two or three people I’ve heavily made out with have all said I’m a delicious kisser. To this day, it’s the one compliment that brings a smile to my face and gets me out of any awkward situation. Sir Maurice and I make out like we’re teenagers and we suck on each others lips, pull at each other’s tongues, and grab the back of each other’s heads like there’s no tomorrow. Sometimes he sticks his tongue out and licks my chin, my nose, my forehead which sometimes feels alien to me but in some kinky kind of frog way, I like it. I still am not a big fan of deep-throating tonsil hockey though but I do like subtle tongue playful puck hockey in the mouth. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve heard it, I still love to be told I’m a good kisser. Sometimes I like kissing with my eyes open to fire the passion and other times I surrender to the blackness underneath my eyelids. It lets me know I still have moves. Yeah, I work it. Go me.

Love
Isabella
xoxoxoo