This is my boy’s perspective of our Kiss Goodbye.
Thank you baby.
I am still unused to the new rule — before leaving you, I am to kneel bedside, arms behind my head, and say “thank you, Ma’am” — so I am nervous and concentrating hard on that process, hoping that I do it right, hoping that my knees don’t hurt too much on the wood floor, hoping that I am maintaining a good enough posture, hoping that you are pleased with me, and I am expecting to be — in just a minute or so — leaving this room and walking home from your apartment to mine. And that’s why when your kisses (which have been soft and quiet and sweet at first, innocent and warm) suddenly turn into something else, something painful and scary, I am taken by surprise.
Because what was a calming metronome of a kiss has now developed into an aggression, your hands cocking my head awkwardly into the crook of your arm so that I am turned, almost like we were dancing, and I was the girl, and you were dipping me almost to the floor, turned like that as if I am suspended and hanging there from your teeth, because now your upper and lower teeth have closed on my bottom lip as if your teeth were searching for each other through my skin. In my mind I fantasize quickly that you do bite all the way through my lower lip, that I can hear the pop as the teeth drive in and the click as they meet, and I imagine my mouth filling up with blood and choking me out, and that terrifies me and turns me on, and all I know to do in the face of your attack is to run into it: so I arch my body into the force of yours and open up my mouth, to give in to you, and I slip my tongue in between your teeth and hold it there, like it’s the offering it is.
And for just a second you pause, like you are startled somewhat. I don’t know why. At the time I wonder if you are surprised by me giving in so easily and quickly. And then the scarier second thought arrives: I think you are startled, not by me directly, but maybe by your own intentions, that the things you want and could do to me are flashing before your eyes in a kind of serial killer’s slideshow of possibilities. It scares me completely and I almost want to laugh but now you are turning me into your lap and your mouth has closed entirely around my tongue. You suck on it like you want to tear it out and bring it back, like I’ve been holding onto it for awhile for you just for safe keeping and now it’s time for my tongue to leave me and to be yours again, and the pain of this attempted removal shoots into my neck and chest.
You’ve upturned me now and I am helpless in your lap, my cock hard (it is your cock, Ma’am) and my lungs burning for air because at some point, without me noticing, you have stopped my breathing with your mouth and your hand, and I want you to black me out but I can’t force my body to keep from fighting for air, which eventually you do give me, Ma’am, you give air back to me again, and my tongue back for awhile, and thank you.